2023

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June

0613 - 0630

13 June 2023: I don't know why I'm here again. My memory is too much of a blur for it to make too much sense. Damn brain fog. What'll it take to make it go away. And if I fall, I'd like to drown, though I'm forever sinking into my own faux-poetic abyss. What, you think you're some kind of---that poet, rupi kapor? who mentioned in poetry workshop?

Argh. See, I'm trying to be a Good Offspring and sit with my family but they talk about nothing too much. Sometimes they're fine and most times they're frustrating. Silly humans. None of us make sense. Empty a head that's already empty. I haven't read enough. All of it is daydreaming. A tad bit of fanfiction mixed in there (yeah, i'm one of those people, but fanfic is better than no-fic and fluff can at least occupy my brain, distraction for a moment is that what I crave? Delete my emotions; what else must be removed, undone, take it all away.

Why am I back? Ah, in the midst of this weekend's faux-mental-breakdown (or real? what is anymore), I ran to reach out to others. This time my brain craves connection. Texted one phone number and we might? be meeting up tomorrow. I'm too brainrot awkward for it to be a good conversation. Head empty and every train of thought disappears. At least a video game can occupy some space. I play too many nowadays. Mostly fluff. Limbus has potential.; Yeah, back later on the same day. Did some yoga, wrote an email, ate a bar of chocolate. My brain is not right today and everything's heading sideways. Could be anxiety-induced; the aforementioned person who I may or may not be meeting with tomorrow. She's the only person I've spoken to recently who wasn't either a relative, professor, or doctor. I think? Argh. I thought inviting her over to play Mario Kart was a safe way to re-initiate connection. Nothing intense. Except I'm not a fan of Mario Kart and with the way I'm typing / how my hands are going I'm going to be struggling to hold a controller. Maybe she'll have forgotten. Do I want her to forget? We didn't agree on a time, but at least I left her with my address. Via text, so it's all there for easy access.

Hah. Okay, I've been gone for ? months---the last post from this particular archive was from November, and I have no idea if that was my last update---and too much has happened. Might as well let the nobody know what that is. Leak all your secrets to the internet, why don't you. Withdrew from first college. That was a good choice. Program was too much of a free for all. Ended up at college no. 2 by the spring semester; quickly changed major from English and Secondary Education to plain ol' English. Lasted all of a month before suddenly dropping out. Had one of those all-too-public violent panic attacks where I was told that I was fortunate that campus police wasn't involved. ...yeah that bit was the last straw. I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last of those and did not feel safe at the thought of police having to be involved in whatever was happening. Got to spend time as a College Dropout and made too many jokes about it that my family did not appreciate. Dark humor, or so.

Someone decided to stick me on another brain medication soon after. And to keep up with therapist no. 3. Ya know, everyone recommends therapy and meds but why? Fine. They work for some people but they ain't fixing my problems. To keep in chronological order: started college no. 3 for the summer semester. It'll all be an online degree. Why keep up college? Idk. Well. I can't get a job in my current state / haven't had any luck and maybe getting that bachelor's will be what I need to get hired for Data Entry. LOL. I know part of my problem is that I need a part-time entry-level remote job. So I'm studying Liberal Arts. What a practical degree with a very straightforward job . . . okay, I'm also working on a minor in graphic design. I'll try to pull off some freelance stuff with that. It'll be something. My tiny income (it barely qualifies) all comes from "beer money" opportunities. Surveys. I hate surveys. Though living with my parents means that I don't have to pay any bills...and "beer money" can cover poor in-app purchase decisions. Yeah I've developed bad habits. Not wallet-draining, but there have been more impulse purchases in a few random games than I'd like.

Was I ranting about therapy? Medication? Self-help shit not working? Well, turns out I have fibromyalgia. Ya know, the condition that's just a bucket list of symptoms, diagnosed via process of elimination (sometimes), where there isn't a medical consensus on whether or not it's real. Could just be a manifestation of depression. I dunno what to think about it. At least the blood testing ruled out arthritis and other stuff that could have caused some of my symptoms. Either way, it technically explains why the self-help garbage wasn't working for me. I've come to the conclusion that my depression is rooted in the physical issues that have had a very real impact on my life. Trying to figure out how to live with that. Unfortunately, internet help just wants to tell me that I'm a strong person for having made it this far and existing in my daily life. Great. They all like to imply if not say that they would have killed themselves if they were experiencing chronic pain. And hey: if there were a foolproof way for me to kill myself, I'd have done it long ago. Emphasis on the foolproof part of that. I'm not at imminent risk for self-harm, etcetera, etcetera. Spent too much time reading about suicide to understand that failure was too likely and would make my life worse. Certainly don't want to deal with the aftermath of a suicide attempt. Hey you could just drown yourself. Sure. I'm too weak to do that. Whatever.

Dropped therapist no. 3 and haven't picked up another one. I'll either up the dose or drop the meds at my next psych appointment. I don't know what's preferrable. I hate medication, and that one is at least one that I can go off of. I'll need surgery to go off of the other med I'm on. That one is unlikely. It'd be expensive and terrifying and all the other shit surrounding the surgery in question. I keep spelling surgery as surgury and then promptly correct it. Argh. It's getting late and if I'm going to keep writing like this I should knock out that English assignment. Maybe I'll add another rambling update to this when I'm done. Or go through and make a list of website changes that I'd like to achieve. Really need to figure out a better way to format the lists. And I'd like to get rid of the index2 v index shit. It was cute in the moment but something about it annoys me. Maybe I want to escape my House of Leaves references and just live a life. HoL is too tied up in my memories of a particular teacher anyways and I'm trying to forget him. Fuck my brain that forms irrational attachements to people. Though I think I've been getting better at that. High school was bad and graduating / getting out of there has made my life so much better, even as other things get worse.

The email I sent bounced back????? . . . I don't want to directly address the person I'm talking to here. IDK, you're probably not reading this. There isn't exactly much worthwhile here. I'll leave a note on your neocities page when I can. Silly new account can't comment for a week. Was that email address wrong? Intentionally so? . . . did copy and paste make a typo?

Almost time to change the date of where I'm rambling. Knocked out that English work like I said I would. Writing something about how literacy is dependent on context; literacy is a product of contexts. The author of one of the essays I had to cite wondered if academic articles from the humanities were easier to understand than the sciences. Well, this humanities student will say that humanities aren't easy to understand or read. Though it's comparing apples and oranges. Something about what is and isn't concrete, though I don't know enough about the sciences or humanities for that matter to say much of anything.
14 June 2023: Evident that I didn't immediately delete this. Hanging out with earlier was good fluff. Too much gaming, and convo was awkward, but we got along. Ended up going out for boba and stopping by the library. She drives a stick-shift convertible. Cars are still terrifying, but that was kind of cool. Managed to finish graphic design work this morning. It was a peaceful day. Though I've still had K. Flay's Blood in the Cut on repeat. Maybe I just needed to get out of my head for a moment. Or I was successful. I should start going on walks more often. I've only read fanfic today, but I'm going to change that in a moment. Time to get started on The Lost Plot---invisible library bk4. Series is good enough for me to have made it this far. Fun brain fluff. I should start using the digital library again.
I started the day by decluttering some books. Good choice: let go of some memories. Now to get them to leave the house. Ziffit took some books, but not all of them. Also need to look into DVD buyback options. I want that pile of crap gone.
17 June 2023: All of my digestive issues started when I started taking Cymbalta. Initially, I thought that the side-effects of it had tapered down, but there are still underlying issues that weren't there before. So I'm going off of it. I still have some lower-dose pills that I'll switch to tomorrow. Not sure if I'll talk to psych about it or just go off on my own. I was fine last time. I've been on it for c. 4 months, which isn't exactly long-term enough for me to be worried about severe side effects. And I'm going to taper off of it instead of abruptly stopping. I'll have to count the balls(?) if I start cutting the pills in half though. That will be rough. Funny how I go from researching fatal overdose of Cymbalta to deciding to go off of it. Cymbalta did help with my depression, but the side effects---if my newfound digestive issues are definitely related to it---are only creating more problems.

I've also established that reducing my sugar intake does create a pain reduction. Or at least increased sugar intake relates to increased pain. And other digestive issues. So we are hopping back onto the low-no-added sugar train. Yay! It's a bit of effort, but nobody can deny that it isn't worth it.

Okay, back here a few minutes later. Not just a few. 70 pages of The Lost Plot later (which has been a good book so far; only put it down to get this real life plot bunny taken care of). Also listening to Don Omar's Forever King album. Fun so far, even if I don't know the language I can enjoy the music. Either way: I've deleted the games that felt like jobs. They were chores and now they're gone and I don't even care about how much money I've spent on them. I need them gone and I feel sad and lighter, like I'm mourning the way they used to bring me joy and how they stopped. Disappointing but it is what it is. I spend too much time waste too much time on their misery and I need to change.

I need to move out. My family creates problems for me. They aren't intentional, and they're the problems that are a mere consequence of their existence, but I need to get out of here. I'll start applying for jobs again. Remote only, I don't drive and I have no desire to learn, and I'll save most of the money. Enough to be able to afford to move out when I'm done with college. Earlier could feel better. I need to be realistic. I'll leech what I can from them (food, health insurance . . .) and then I'll get out of here for good. Hypothetically I can save all of the money I earn. I don't have expenses, and deleting the games that I've spent money on / ceasing those expenses will get rid of that expense. I'll ask about surgical options next time I see gyno. Whether or not I have endometriosis, I don't know, she's said I match the symptoms but will just cycle through pills until something helps. Current one hasn't helped yet.

See, I'm beginning to think that some of my chronic health issues can be solved. It'll take medical intervention but they might not be a lifelong issue. Or medical stuff will bring my issues down to a managable level where I'm not bedridden. My brief experiments with dietary changes have convinced me that dietary changes are helpful. Sure, re-learning what to eat is a process, but it's doable. I'm not saying this applies to all people with my issues. I've been reading some fibromyalgia posts online; one common thread I see is that there are people who have an underlying issue. Fibromyalgia is their misdiagnosis. Maybe that's my case. Some people are able to alleviate their symptoms with lifestyle changes. Maybe I am one of those people; maybe I don't actually have fibromyalgia. It's a hope that I can hold onto. Or at least it's something that I can hold onto. So I'll sit here and make my changes and these changes will make a change. I know that I'm focusing on dietary changes because---like I said---my brief experimentation with them has shown that dietary changes DO help me. Exercise hasn't. Irritating, but maybe the physical therapy will be the change I need. Maybe I haven't taken the approach to exercise that is right for me. What is the right approach, I don't know, but the physical therapist might.

Here's to maintaining changes. This time WILL be different.

LOL. Three hours(?) later. Bring on the familiar spiral. What a lie. Gotta let the internet know, though.
18 June 2023: . . . word of the day: fuck. I hate medical bills. I should have never checked that inbox. Or signed in. Or existed, really. That would have made my life a lot easier. Yeah, let's spiral even quicker. I could wreck this if I have to / but I'm a wreck so what would that do (Masterpiece Theatre I, Marianas Trench). I'd give in if I had the energy to. Or a lack of self-doubt. Right now I just want to pack a bag, walk, and leave everything behind. It would be a bad idea in more ways than one---went on a normal walk earlier and now my knee is all wrong (frowns)---but it's another idle dream. One of these days I will.

My family said that my logic sounded like that of someone who wanted to do drugs. Their suggestions: don't, that's a bad idea, find some online volunteer work, get a job. I am working on getting a job. Sending applications. Resume is a-okay. What the family members don't understand is that I want to destroy my life. Burn it all down. Make a change so drastic there's no going back. I won't. I know I won't. I'm weak. Pathetic. Scream to the internet? To emails? To strangers? Now listening to: Blood in the Cut - K. Flay, Frankenstein - Rina Sawayama. Marianas Trench (all).
20 June 2023: Multi-day headache turned into a migraine yesterday. Yay! I seem to be fine now though. Managed to go to the library today and get a nice study session in. I'm beginning my research on infinity, though I'll use the term research loosely. Started by grabbing a few books that came up in my library's catalogue when I searched infinity: mostly science (astronomy, physics), a math book, and a bit on philosophy. Though I'm more interested in infinity in literature; outside of the obvious in House of Leaves, I'll probably need to make use of academic databases for better reading. Add in a bit of calculus. A previous professor had recommended Carl Boyer's The History of the Calculus---dense reading, but well worth it, requested it so I'll actually be able to finish reading it this time around. Maybe I need to sit down, take a step back, and properly study calculus. Study to understand, not just to pass a class. Blargh. As if I even know where I'm beginning.

That Heidegger essay--was it "What is Metaphysics?" wrote about here long before today---was the beginning. Nothing and everything. Argh. I swear it makes sense in my head, but how to portray it. Decode and apply. What applications? I'll find them one day. Fractals (how beautiful!) and nature. It's all math until it isn't. Was it in that Borges short story? Pull on the threads---HoL and not---and I'll work forward. Fuck mental/physical issues; I want infinity, not them, to devour me.
21 June 2023: My brain was overworked today. Idea generation is exhausting (graphic design class, nothing notable, just never realized how tiring visual art could be). Using a new 'muscle' is good, though. I'll keep working on it.

My latest foray into reading is reminding me of the difference between reading for entertainment, knowledge, and exposure. Exposure as in wandering through some unfamiliar field without understanding or bothering to understand; just becoming familiar with what words and names and ideas keep coming up. Starting places I can return to at a later date. Laura Mersini-Houghton's Before the Big Bang was as good a starting point as any. Is physics where I begin? --and where is the question? Something about infinity. If only I could put it into words. No, I can: infinity and how it has been portrayed in literature, intentional or not. But that requires a definition of infinity. There's the infinitely large and the infinitesimal. Infinities contain infinities; not one the same size, unless they are, for my math is not wonderful.

I'd write more here, but my hands are growing tired and I still have more writing to do elsewhere (on my website and off, if I must specify). Fuck, I forgot to work on that essay. Add it to tomorrow's todo list.
24 June 2023: Would say that today was a day defined by exhaustion, fatigue, brain fog, but the brain fog seems to be clearing up. Wish I knew why, but I'll take it where I can. Here to finish warming up my brain before I tackle my short todo list: want to take care of an email, get some work done on a graphic design project, some reading, maybe infinity. Or transcribe the voice notes I took.

Infinity: realized going at this by looking at science/physics isn't the right approach for me. Feels like I'm going back to HoL analysis. Circles and circles. Hey, those are pi!

Keep it brief to preserve my hands. Got some new nail polish today that has been very fun to look at. One of them is color changing. Nails aren't long enough to have as much of a gradient effect as it could have, but it looks pleasant. Forgot how much I liked matte nail polish. Okay, au revoir (for now).
Back again. Opens tumblr. Reads "it is religiously imperative for me to eat your mom's pussy." (source). Closes tumblr. Stop going in circles! Exit! Become a triangle! (. . . a sierpinski triangle?). This is going absolutely nowhere. Why am I so giddy. Is this turning into one of those liveblog-thoughts-to-neocities nights? INCONCEIVABLE.
25 June 2023: Woke up wondering if learning to draw would be easier than writing sex scenes. Artists can just go "and FUCK!" while us writers have to use our words. Yes, it really was necessary for me to write that. Such is the life of a fanfic writer. I'm looking over the a grand list of projects I want to / am actively working on that I put together last night. Don't want to think about what my priorities actually are, just want to do them all at once. Need to organize short terms ones vs long term ones. Short term can be done in order; long term, spend a bit of time on each day / on a regular basis. Start today with reading, then move onto school stuff, then creative stuff. Could be a good way to organize it. Stop writing and get to work.
Day passed. Managed to knock out some non-fun / 'life-maintenance' work. What a boring necessity. I've been thinking about how much of my personality has come from being raised as a woman. Yeah, I know, how gender roles influence behavior has been over-discussed. It still bothers me to see how much of my behavior is being the good, quiet girl with no opinions of her own. I'd make a good tradwife. Constantly trying to judge what other people want and be that; adjust my opinions to suit theirs. But I _do_ have my own opinions. Desires. Needs. Etcetera. Expressing them is uncomfortable because I've been taught not to.

The more I think about my life, the more I realize how much I need to spend time away from my family. Not alone at home; out in the world by myself. Going on walks has been a good start. Unfortunately, anything else requires either learning to ride a bike or learning to drive. Probably driving; I don't trust my body to ride a bike yet. PT should help with those issues though. Tomorrow's todo list looks more interesting, more thinking/reading/analysis work than today's meandering through emails and family stuff and whatnot. Cut it here. Farewell.
26 June 2023: When I originally read that Heidegger "What is Metaphysics?" essay I thought it was profound and had All The Answers or some shit. Tried to reread it today. Parse through my annotations. Gave up. What the fuck was I thinking. Feelin' a bit disillusioned in ya, Martin, 'cause that essay was senseless wandering and petty squabbles. How much time have I wasted on senseless meandering, thinking I made sense because pretentiousness??? Fancy Name Philosopher??? when actually I was getting nowhere. (Knowing me, I'll take another look at this later and revert to my initial Wow. Or not. Lasting impression ??? Current impression NOT PLEASED).

Scrolling through tumblr today reminded me of how I keep meaning to subscribe to normal-horoscopes patreon and read the notes that they've been posting there. Yep, surely I can just worm that into my nonsensical todo lists of projects/reading/value to be evaluated. I *really* need to put together a system for keeping track of them instead of having these lists spread out over a variety of paper, digital, mental formats. You know: put it all together so I can do what I want instead of meandering through chaos and wonder why I'm getting nowwhere.

I need to accept how some tasks need to wait. I can't read all the books at once. I can't work on all the things at once. I can't have all the thoughts at once and I sure as hell can't understand everything at once. Or expect perfection. I don't think this desire for everything is related to any past perfectionist tendencies; it's an expression of frustration with my lack of understanding. I want to know it all because maybe then I can understand it all. What is 'it all?' People? The world? Human motivations? . . . oh, I see. Either it's something about how much I struggle with talking to people or my haphazard frustration with the state of the world. I just want everyone and everything to be fine and happy and doing well. U-fucking-topia.

No. You don't need to read about / think about utopia. Stop it, brain!
30 June 2023: Did neither. A bit of math, a bit of internet, and I realized the most likely scenario was having a hellish few days and fucking up my liver. No thanks. Some other reasons involved; usual don't want to do that to my mom. Don't care about the rest of the family, but her? She's good.

I'll drop back down to my old dose w/o talking to psych. Only on upped dose for the past week, so I should be fine. Do I need therapy? I don't know. I've had multiple therapists go behind my back. Uncomfortable situations. Don't know what I would get out of them anyways. Just keep reminding myself of PT; will talk to doc about hysterectomy. I know my age would count against me but it's worth a shot. Would prevent some of my problems from getting worse.

Actually going back to surveys. Mostly CCR; they seem to have removed the weekly ED questions since I last used it. What a relief. Those were tiring to complete. Also have a 'does not apply' option now. Much appreciated. Mix of funding game habit and putting it into my bank account. Not much of an income, but it's something. Almost a purpose.

I want to grab and shake myself by the shoulders and yell at myself. I keep creating problems. I do nothing. I make bad choices and wonder why my actions have consequences. Usual 'can't have your cake and eat it.' How do I change my behavior? There has to be something I can do that isn't psych drug related. Or not repeated use related---I've seen a few people talk about how doing shrooms once had significant positive consequences. Something something something. Maybe? Could be worth a shot.

Fuck. Just reminding myself that I have options. For all I know, I could still die in a random car crash next week. So many ways to end up dead unintentionally. Maybe one will happen to me. (Make up for my weak will.)

July

0702 - 0730

02: At the time of starting to write this entry, I have forty minutes left of Interstellar. Which one will finish first? It's been an enjoyable film. Soundtrack is good. It's longer than I thought it would be . . . because I converted 168 minutes to 1.5 hours. I know, I know. The math did not math. I don't know why I thought it did. Oh shit that's. What. Something big just happened. Is this why -- said ? Must be. Wow I love those moments when everything comes together.

Sometimes I think I need someone to save me from myself. I have logic, I can be rational, why won't I?

I was lying to myself. I worked on a bit of HoL today and enjoyed it. Finally, everything made sense. It did and didn't make sense. I didn't have anything concrete to say about HoL, no new conclusions, only further understanding and remembering. I was reading through my notes, old journal entries. I had it. I do think that Johnny created TNR and footnotes as a representation of himself. He's working through and trying to understand. Not unlike Slaughterhouse Five (where time represents PTSD; Vonnegut attempting to understand PTSD when it wasn't a diagnosable condition). We create stories to understand ourselves. I've done it. How did I forget? How was I so lost that I ---?

Fuck. I've been agonizing over my lack of answers when I've had them all along. I can't let this happen again. I wasn't looking for a unifying theory. I already had it. I have my explanation for the book and I know how I'm interpreting the book. What I wanted to do was only analysis. Understand individual bits, more explanations of how these bits were a part of the whole. Do the sort of page-by-page, footnote-by-footnote analysis that I always needed a lens through which to interpret to do. I have the lens. I've had it for --- a year? At least. Fuck. I remember that email. Why was I trying to forget? _What_ was I trying ---?
Well. Another hour later and I have answers. It was c. a year ago when I started going through HoL in a ridiculously systematic manner. Kept draining my interest while telling myself it was worth it. It wasn't. Then there was the emotional baggage that I needed some distance from. To top it off, all that school stuff. Probably chronicled it decently well over in the journal entries from last year. So: depression, bad environment, bad approach made me lose my way. Turn of the year and other shit kept going downhill. Blah blah blah. Alongside this was me getting sidetracked by infinity. Then Limbus Company. Y'know what both of those have in common? House of Leaves! No, really. Infinity is portrayed in HoL. Limbus & HoL are related by relying on classical canon. They're being framed by Dante's Divine Comedy. More to say, but my fingers are dying, and I've gotten the key points. I will not forget.
03: Enough ruminating. Today's been a waste. Running on four hours of sleep, brain fog infiltrated yet again, all I did was play games and start watching Tatami Galaxy. Found the first two episodes on Youtube; rest will be retrieved from the library at a later date. And a book by the same name. Most of my thoughts so far have more to do with anime than itself.

Like any good (pre)teenager, I had an anime phase. Madoka Magica was among the first anime I watched, though, which managed to bring an end to my interest in anime. Everything I've tried to watch since then seemed lackluster. Madoka had good animation, a well-put together plot, and seriously the graphics were wonderful. Who didn't love the details in the witches? I'd watch it for the first time again, if I could. Can't. Haven't rewatched it (or if I did, I don't remember); doubt I will. After Madoka, all anime seemed the same. Repetitive visuals, plots, characters, nothing worth more than an episode (if that).

The animation and visuals for Tatami Galaxy are fun. Seems like an insult to call it anime. Dialogue is fast-paced enough to bring me back to West Wing, leaving my head confused between paying attention to what's being said (thank you subtitles) and the visuals. Either way: enjoyable, looking forward to watching the rest of it.

I'm trying to restructure my organization system. One list of things to look at later. One list of what I want to do with HoL (to organize my thoughts, make sure I don't lose my way again). Another list of entries that will end up in the lists on neocities. It's easier to update the list sections on an irregular, non-daily basis. Journal entries still coming on a case by case basis. I write 'em on here, no need to 'save 'em for later' like I will my lists. Temporarily. We'll see how it goes.

Thoughts feel a little clearer now. I wish I understood myself. Do I not know what I want, or am I too embarrassed to admit it to myself? Hmm. Still time left in the day to do something. Maybe now I'm ready.
06: Thursday. Almost Friday. Should still be Tuesday. Arbitrary.

I've been in one of my running on four hours of sleep a night phases. Only being able to get four hours should leave me with more time in the day; instead, I'm tired and wracked by an energetic insomnia. Too much energy boiling over. The last few times this has happened were filled with useful thinking and massive projects and things coming together that were well done. I could think and I could see what everything meant and I could make the connections. Writing, weave a good plot; composing, put together a 6-minute full orchestra piece in a few days; paint for twenty hours without pausing to eat. Good stuff.

The energy is contentedly unfocused, or too much brain fog. So I went off my meds. Admittedly, I've been on them long enough to have side effects that are prominent enough to be a short term problem. Short term meaning I'll be free of them in a week or less. Bothersome in the meantime but the brain fog came from taking the meds. I don't like it. Sure, I might be more irritable, but being difficult around bothersome people is a small price to pay for being able to think about what I'm reading, creating, enjoying life. Don't know what I'll say to my parents. They're the ones who pick up meds for me; I don't want to lie to them, but I also know that they'll shove pills down my throat if they find out I stopped taking them. Could just keep picking up the meds and not taking them, but that's wasting money. I'll figure it out. I have time.
07: At the time of writing this it’s actually the 8th. At 3 o’clock in the fucking AM. Turns out the myths about withdrawal are not myths. The brain zaps are running full throttle a la Harrison Bergeron handicaps. Not the right time, but it’s my choice and I’m going to be miserable with it. ‘Did you talk to your psychiatrist’ no I quit cold turkey like a normie. Up for twenty hours and I can’t sleep, too much energy, can’t think either. Wow do I hate brain zaps. Just here to confirm that the warnings from the internet were True. Though if you’re anything like me (and are considering quiting your psych meds on a whim w/o tapering down) you’re not going to listen to the warnings about THE BRAIN ZAPS. It is a fire in my head that no water can put out. Speaking of water I was the person who only drank two cups of water today and wondered why I wasn’t doing well. Really creating a perfect storm here. It’ll be worth it. Not the forgetting water part. Or food. Let’s try to sleep again . . ?
11: I'd say it's technically the 10th, but my sleep schedule is all out of whack. Heading there. I am far too awake for how many hours I've been up. Decided to go with a 'let's see how this goes and wait to sleep until i'm actually tired' approach tonight. Today. Being this awake is exhausting because my head is too cloudy to do much of anything. My head needs sleep. If only my body could do the same.

Brain zaps have significantly cleared up. Not gone, but better than I thought they were. Taking back anything I said about don't quite your meds without consulting your doctor. Or not. What works for one is not for all. Still haven't figured out how to deal with this with my parents. I think I'm confident in my choice. Starting that statement with I think weakens it.

Took care of an email I've been procrastinating on. My college has had 3.5 months to look at my transcripts for transfer credit; it should be done by now. No need to mentally apologize for bothering these people. It's their job and they haven't even done it.

I've been looking at part-time jobs in walking distance. Exceedingly limited. Too many of them require a valid driver's license. I need to get to work on that. I will. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. Just one more book . . .
14: Too awake. It's not like I'm capable of coherent thought when I'm up for as long as I have been; can't focus, can't read even trashy manga or scroll through tumblr but I'm still wide awake. Yes, I've tried melatonin. It didn't help. It has never helped. Great if it works for you, though, that's awesome. Keep it to yourself.

Brain zaps still. These aren't related to the insomnia. Fuck, it's been so long since insomnia has been a problem for me. Forgot what this hell was like. Can't do anything, though is it insomnia if I have energy? I don't know (anything). Physical therapy seems to be going somewhere. Using an exercise ball is difficult. The bands are nice, sort-of-fun except for how I keep worrying about them breaking. PT keeps showing something about my hips not being quite right. At least my core strength is great (thank you, yoga). Need to keep up with back stretches in our daily routine. Very much hate back massage. I am sore everywhere. Also hate people touching me. It's tiring; it'll help.
Back again. Nearly July 15, but I'm starting on the 14th. Continuing. Umm. Walking back from town is nice, but the weather isn't great and the distance is just a tad bit too long and there isn't exactly a place for me to rest my legs along the way. Minor grievances. Enjoyed spending time in the graveyard. There was one gravestone that seemed to have something like stained-glass in it. I don't know anything about gravestones.

I'm lost is all. Resisting the urge to delete everything and run away again because nothing ever really changes. Replace one problem with another. Not wasting money but am scrolling through ana again. I shouldn't do that. I've done it enough. At least I didn't return to threekings---I know I'll never act on anything there, just waste time reading and scaring myself because of my own beliefs.

Was able to delete a Google account and it felt amazing. Only used that one for beermoney. Last study paid out (!!!), I'm only using CCR from now on. They don't send spam. Or much of anything. Felt great to be able to delete that and Chrome. Been trying to hunt for a different browser again. Used to like Min, but it was more of a side-browser than a primary browser. Firefox has problems. Main issue is that I can't find something built to be voice accessible. Chrome was pretty good at that. Firefox straight up removed accessibility a few years ago. The grid works; not well enough. Frustration. Firefox keeps having problems. Past browsers: Opera, Brave, Vivaldi, qute, Safari (which has turned into utter shit. It used to work). Probably a few more that I don't remember. Annoyed that voice control accessible browsers keeps bringing me to extensions for Chrome. There are countless browsers out there, surely someone made one?

Fuck me. Orphan everything, delete it all, atleast . . . I don't know. Just keep running because that's the one thing I can reliably do. I don't even know where I'm going or why I'm writing. Tired and frustrated and going in circles and circles and circles and circles and (...).

I'm hungry, but my dad's downstairs so I can't grab food without him making some comment. I haven't eaten much in the past---what, two weeks?---and now it's catching up to me. So I had dinner twice. Been a few hours, but if I went to go and grab something he'd make some comment about how you shouldn't eat close to bed (as if he's one to talk. Him and his midnight snacks. When I move out, a bag of chips will never enter my dwelling. Nor will chips. Or any of his other night snackfoods). And this ongoing insomnia isn't letting up. I'd say the meds had helped with that, but this started the week before I went off. So just unfortunate timing. Blargh. I just want to sleep.

Almost feels like there was no difference between me on meds and off. Minus 60mg me; we don't talk about her. Might be a bit more prone to zoning out, and I can't forget the increasingly-diminishing brain zaps, but that's all. New plan is to tell the psychiatrist that I want to go off meds, then pretend to level off according to her instructions. That's how I'll handle telling the parents. Just omit the fact that I went off of the meds three weeks before working with her on it. Rearrange the facts, omit details, crimes already plastered on the internet for none to see.
15: And an hour before the 16th, so it's fine and accurate. At least that one isn't the root of my frustration. No, my head gets the award today. It isn't brain fog. Just classic zoning out. Back to being unaware of my own existence. Makes it easy to avoid touching things that I'm trying to avoid; makes it easy to lose track of things that I want to pay attention to. There aren't thoughts. Evidently there are, lest I'd be writing nothing, but it's all one very tired mess and I just want to open up HoL and lose myself in its familiar prose. I shouldn't. I should find something else, not just Nausea because I keep looking for myself in what I read. Not quite accurate: I want to open up a book and coincidentally find myself relating to the narrator. I'm inconsistent in seeking out what I want. Call it laziness, call it not knowing the word for what I'm searching for. The self-harm in fics is a good substitute. It isn't quite right. I've lost my connection to the characters I used to count on. Really, I'm just in the latest iteration (cycle) of feeling lost. Opened up Middlegame to try and find something. Maybe I can.

I love that Dodger is the embodiment of numbers. I wasn't involved in my high school math team when I read it, far too late and far too tired to bother with that sexist bullshit, and it was nice to see a character who was a woman with a connection to math. She makes sense. All of it does. It can find its way back to infinity, I thought last time I read it. Something with alchemy. Maybe tugging that thread would change something. It won't. I'm failing; not even trying, I don't think. Or I say I'm trying but I don't know if I'm making excuses instead. I don't mean to lie. I'm sorry.
18: Went to a new moon workshop last night. Thank you, time spent scrolling through random websites and clicking on random links. Less in a 'I believe everything that is going to be said here' and more in a mix of being tired but wanting to do something slightly-less-wasteful with my time. The sheer amount of candle safety warnings were clarified when the instructor noted that they had set themself on fire more times than they can count. That makes sense. Tried to not spend my thoughts mocking everybody there; relatively failed. No apologies. At least the practicioner was emphasizing being independent from materials; ex. you don't need a candle or a tarot deck or whatnot to READ THE SIGNS. THE MESSAGING FROM THE UNIVERSE. Okay, wishy-washy, but I prefer wishy-washy spirituality to BUY THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS OR DIE spirituality.

Oddly fitting that the tarot reading I did in that workshop began with the ten of swords. Look it up. The digital deck I was using (via Labrynthos) was an upright humanoid with ten swords going through them. Blood on the ground. Context? Apparently it's my ideal outcome. I wish it were wrong. Tarot is a lot of interpreting things how you want to interpret them, sure, but that context implied that I'd rather be hurt. Which is true. It's easier. The other cards were mocking me. I read them as mocking me. Fitting.

I've been spending more time outside of the house recently. (Refraining from digging up the relevant quote. Again). Walking into town is difficult. The graveyard is still a pleasant stop. Being around death is a kind of peaceful beauty.
One of my late-night pastimes has been looking at the autism symptoms courtesy of Wikipedia and pointing out how my supposed-symptoms manifested. Poor social skills? Young me was far too busy reading to bother socializing with others. Why play stupid games when you can READ. Especially when you're young and everything you read is still so new; you have no taste and will grab anything from the library. There's so much to read and you haven't even begun to grasp how many books are out there but you want to keep reading them. Mix my love of books in with some other odd-and-end shit (ill-timed move, school creating problems, etc.) and it's a wonder that I have any social skills. If I do? Unsure.

"Oh but repetitive interests" oh as if you've never relistened to the same couple of albums? Had a TV show turn into comfortable background rewatching? Sure, I reread books. They're good books. Or they're comforting. Re-consume media because it's good and my little humanities brain sees it as an opportunity for analysis. Always has. And, I dunno, sometimes you want to do something without doing something. Re-engaging with a familiar piece of media is a great way to do so. More people should have books that they reread or movies that they rewatch or songs they love an unfathomable amount.

I wouldn't say that I have particular routines. My family begs to differ but can't clarify why.

Ooh sensory issues. There. That one. That one has to be autism, right? LOL. No. I know when my sensory issues developed. I know when I can cope with them. But but but no buts.

The only useful thing about the diagnosis was qualifying for a medical single when I lived on campus. What a relief.

TLDR: Lucy isn't autistic. "you're in denial" okay and? It's not like there's a cure.
21: Another midnight. Another I'm-tired-of-this. At least the melatonin gummies taste good. (Yes, I know, too many causes the no-effect).

Resisting the urge to begin with a certain HoL quote. I've been defacing my copy. A few other books, my notes, some images from an art book, and other doodles turning into miscellaneous collages on every right page. Might be what I needed to do and finally had the space to do. Might be something I'll yell at myself over in two years. Might be nothing. Blip. Blop. Bloop. Boop! Beep bop.

Odd how much emptier my head is when it isn't cycling through a repetitive series of thoughts. I've been forcing myself to listen to new music. A bit in French, since I need to take four semesters of it to graduate and will learn something by the end of it. Space from SN meant space from Limbus has meant space from ao3. I'd no longer call myself involved in fandom (at the point of writing this, at least). I've always been bothered when this happens but it might be time to live with it. Okay, I'm on a break and that's all there is to it. No betrayal or anything ridiculous/dramatic (pathetic). Tad bit lost, sure, as much as usual, also. Less? Unsure. Talking to people (not plural, unless my family counts) is odd. Another highlight of my deficits. Frustrating, but I don't do anything about it . . ?
22: I'll stop noting what time it is. Redundancies reduced. Hmm. Usual frustration with self over why can't I just talk to people. Nope. Either my mind is empty or I'm overthinking. Bothering people no matter what. One would think that all of the therapists and meds would have taught me to stop seeing my existence as inherently bothersome; apparently not.

Reading through old entries and seeing my unknown inconsistencies/lies/errors is irritating. Doesn't feel right to go back and remove/edit/redact sentences from prior months. Sure, humans are fluid but other bits keep bothering me.
25: What I want to do is go home and curl up and bed / not do anything / cry / eat ALL the ice cream / reinstall (but it's gone, very gone, can't/shan't touch and go) / revisit something comfortable but I said I wouldn't and I'd rather not lie about the one thing two that I can not lie about. Three 'em' in one day. This is a problem. So I'm sitting at the library, just submitted an application. A-gain. I needed to apply as a transfer student to switch to brick-and-mortar of my current institution. For good, for the better. Put down math. It's what I can do and it's what I was good at before. Can be, when I study. All of these books look the same. Not all that interested in reading right now. Frustration. All of it. Everywhere. All the time.

Put together a one-page-RPG. Never done that before. It's small, barely playable, could have narration but I don't feel like writing that down on some random idea that I needed to kick out of my head. At least I did something. Not just that: walked, college shit, reading, thinking (as if), physical therapy. Slept well, I think, don't remember waking up. Oh. Either I triggered the spiral or it was time. Back down we go. For the better, that wasn't sustainable. Cleaned up Kindle too (goodbye, fanfics); deleted tumblr. And downloads folder. Should grab some more books while I'm here. Or DVDs? As if I'll do anything this week.
26: A brief look at different videos featuring Yann Tiersen's Monochrome:
Yann Tiersen - Monochrome - Duzeduzebah - fun cover using flute and piano. Nothing notable; just a good sound.

Monochrome - Yann Tiersen - VReyF - cover by a percussion ensemble. They sound a bit awkward at first; improve as they go along (especially once the piano starts using the pedal).

Monochrome - Yann Tiersen (con Mis Amigos) - Andrés Urrutia - it's cute is all. A bit of a mix of different clips from this person's daily life moreso than some sort of fan music video.

MONOCHROME - Ági Lévai - someone involved in this must be a film student. She's done well. Intentional bits of daily life. Isolating.

Echoes - AJourneyMan18 - love the stop-motion clothes idea. Captures the feeling of the song exceedingly well. Barely a person.

It's A Trap! - Monochrome (cover) - ericslug - the only cover I saw that had some reinterpretation of the song (not just recreating the original; light modifications to lyrics and rhythms and whatnot). There's a good vibe here.; Cue usual nonsense. Already done. Still feel like screaming at someone. I don't understand what's wrong. Something---I'm aware that my failed strings of trying to interact with others already represent that. They always have other people. I will never be one of them. Just the local freak show. One step away. Thoughts but I don't feel like existing today. More myself than I've been all month, at least. Spoke thrice at random event yesterday. Of course what I had to say was quickly brushed over; too incoherent, and they'd rather re-ruminate on thoughts from each other. Auto-exclusion. Why bother.
27: Oh, she's about to go on another ramble again? Yes, and you've got a problem with that because . . ?

Still reading In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. Tired of listening to how childhood impacts people. From all around me: first the internet, then that trio of therapists, some other doctors, more internet, now this book that can't shut up about how different absences in childhood create addiction. Tired of hearing childhood is responsible for problems. Okay, blame shifted, how can you fix / change it? Or is everybody just shift-ing the blame . . ? Too much other related bullshit that irritants threw at me is coming to mind. 'well, you were ~traumatized~ and are in ~denial~' and I just want to change something. Keep the sarcasm out. Fuck the lot of you. Death to all. Necrophilia, you mean? Sure, why not.

People seem too quick to shift blame to childhood without thinking about what can be done now. The past is in the past, move the fuck on, figure out what can be done and do it. Someone's callin' me a hypocrite; I'm sayin' I don't know what to do. I'm falling out of too many things. Intentional eliminations; accidental (fanfic, fandom, believe it or not, youtube video binges, music on repeat, more that I'm not remembering at the moment). Barely still reading. Saving me from daydreaming, which I know I shouldn't be doing. 'Eyy, what's wrong with daydreaming? It's a normal thing' not in excess, escapism, ignorance of reality. Zoning out. Uncontrollable / not recognizing that there is a choice to continue, not seeing a choice, just re-pe-ti-tion. Can't let it happen again. Music taking place, surprisingly. Another way to pass time? Floating.

Wander back on topic. Say I was traumatized. Okay, now what? 'Well, knowing what happened is part of figuring out the solution.' I don't remember. Tidbits that people tell me say nothing. Dealing with the effects of what never happened. I'm trying to figure that 'how' out because I won't be able to put a finger on the exact why. There's the generaL; filling a void (created by---irrelevant!). No. Saying the same thing over and over again. Eh, it's _your_ fault for reading it.; They weren't great poets, but it was fun to be there and share. Every poet needs to read their work aloud to revise it. Could be me speaking from my idea that poetry is meant to be read aloud. There is no other way to edit/revise writing where you can go through the words and their flow as well as reading it aloud. This is even more important in poetry. (sighs aggressively at poets). Did appreciate hearing that my delivery was great. Multiple people told me I seemed to be reading their minds.
Different note: my college is a shitshow. I've sent too many emails and had to make phone calls. PLURAL. They're making mistakes so I have to be a squeaky wheel. (endless frustration)
30: Was reading a book that mentioned it's possible for males to have endometriosis. Ran into this article which linked to a scientific paper(?). Another one. (Don't worry, males, it's unlikely). Bodies are strange. Unfortunately, most of the search results populating the first few pages (which is as far as I looked; stop judging me) wanted to remind me that it is possible for trans men to have endometriosis. Is that even a statement that needed to be said? If you have a uterus, you are at risk for endometriosis. Unless you're male, in which case it's something about Müllerian ducts and fetal development and estrogen. Don't look at me, I don't understand what I'm reading. Anatomy. Biology. ~confusion~

August

0803 - Marianas Trench tangent

0803

unless otherwise noted, the oncoming quotes are from songs by Marianas Trench. First up: Astoria.

Never after will suffice / When star-crossed lovers take their life

Who'll be my Montague now / To this broken Capulet

I'm your biggest fan / it's so good to finally meet you
Don't you want love / Don't you want this / Don't you looked so shocked / This is not the way I planned it
One day you will / Learn to love me / One day you will / Thank me you'll see / If I can't have you / No one can

You never say yes / Not quite no / Say just enough to make me not go.

I never face the music when it's dire / And I breathe disaster / Ever After / Don't you pull away from me now.

Apologies / I'm not myself but I can guarantee / That when I get back you won't believe / That you knew well / Don't wanna think about it / I'm fucking tired of getting sick about it / Now stand back up and be a man about it / And fight for something

I've been taking you for granted
Sometimes the one you want / is not the one you need

How can one of us / still feel blessed when the other one's lost

Give into the slow descent / give into the trust to feel it / Give into the pull and the push and the forth and back

You don't gotta worry about us / I guess it depends / In the end / After all we're all friends here

Have a piece of the American Dream / Open up and swallow on your knees / You say thank you, I'd like some desperate measures please

Gonna make a heartthrob out of me / Just a bit of minor surgery
I'll give you something to cry about
For a first effort this / Feels kinda last ditch
I can't let this go

The slow and simple melody / of tears you cannot keep from me / it's alright if you don't know / What you need

The more that I push you / The more you resist

I'm on the ledge / while you're so goddamn polite and composed

I know you're fine / But what do I do

For the life of me / I don't know why it took me so long to see
Sunshine blinds you if you stare / But I see it crystal-clear

So here I am / you can take or leave me / but I won't ever be anywhere but here

Sing it back
Have you been singing?

Why can't you just be lonely?

But I been working on the things that I was learning all wrong

But what if here and now I tell you that I'm all figured out? / But maybe I just like how that sounds.

I know it seems beneath me (...) To wish you well and let you go

There's no yellow / Bricks to follow back and run from that disaster

I know I started it wrong --- Haven't Had Enough --- contrasts "We just got the start wrong"
I think that it's as easy as 1, 2, 3 / Do you see what I do / Truth or dare, yes I double dare you --- Truth or Dare
I face the music when it's dire --- Ever After

Once upon a time / This place was beautiful and mine / But now it's just a bottom line / There's no / Yellow bricks and happily / Ever after we lived / The end.

Ever After is a concept album, (as was Masterpiece Theatre). In addition to the fact that there is no pause between the tracks, Ever After also has a storyline told through the album's songs as well as its booklet. The story tells of a fictionalized Josh Ramsay and his adventures in the fantasy kingdom of Toyland.

Josh Ramsay meets the ex-King of Toyland upon his waking up in a strange land in front of a toy factory. The King tells Josh that he was overthrown by his wife Queen Carolina, after seducing him into a feeling of safety. She then stole the heart of his daughter, Princess Porcelain (played by Canadian actress Olivia Ryan-Stern),[7] which caused the king so much pain that he let Carolina take the throne. Carolina locks Porcelain's heart in a box atop a tower, which also holds various things she has also stolen; including Josh's way home. Carolina proceeded to steal the inhabitants' hearts, and build her army of heartless toy soldiers. After hearing this tale, Josh sets off in search of Porcelain and his way home.

0805 - 0827

0805

Revolution - QueenPb still reminds me of 1984

Start a revolution / And laugh as you think that you have control
This is just and game and it's all been planned
You don't get a say, you don't get no rights / If we want a revolution then you must oblige / Think you're defiant starting this riot / You're only making things much easier

Her lyrics are fun to analyze. I wrote essays on Senseless and Dishonour back in high school. Dishonour was fun because it took multiple rounds of going through to figure out the story I thought it told. Putting together a narrative, refining it, etcetera. Senseless was much of the same work. There I had to figure out what perspective I wanted to analyze it from; ended up doing it from the perspective of a single abuser to a single person (or something along those lines).

Pre-chorus was always a favorite:

Close your eyes and shut your mouth / Numb your fingers, block the sound / Isn't it just way too loud? / You need tune your senses out

Which is where it could go back to the theme of government. Citizens must remain ignorant of the crimes.

Don't think about it / Don't think at all / Just sit there and watch your people fall / Resistance is futile for you ignorant fools / Your simple mind is what you're destined for

Goes there again. Clearer in this iteration. Building on the same themes as Revolution? Not uncommon for vocaloid people to have underlying universes / OCs / stories / whatnot. Could be more here to think about. Later. Or never. My wrists are dying and there's other things I'd like to deal with.

Too distracted. Usual tired of existing. I said the medication didn't help. The one thing it did do was subtract the regular suicidal ideation. I used to be able to cope with that, but the meds meant I didn't need to because there wasn't anything to cope with. (For the most part. Dose changes are a different story. Gone over this before). I don't remember how to live like this. So yes, I'm struggling again, since when is that a surprise? (waves hands vaguely, gestures somehow illustrating 'existing is exhausting so i am exhausted')(I don't know any sign languages. They're nonsense gestures.)

I know I don't have the energy to talk to new people right now. Or to talk to usual people. Not sure what I should be doing. Not sure why I bothered re-starting Neocities in the first and/or second place. It's something to do. Forces myself to organize something. But I'm posting it . . ? Can't deny that being able to access my site between devices has been useful. Sometimes I need to reference something and my computer isn't on hand.

(I should stop with the . . ?s.)

Hid the misc. media page. I don't like the format, don't care enough to fix it, not sure how many more updates it'd be getting anyways. I've sworn off of baking, so no new recipes will be noted. I want to bake but I don't want to eat the results more than once/twice. Being the one who has to eat the entire (insert baked good here) is obnoxious. So is how my family rejects baking that isn't done by my mom. Though most people didn't eat the raspberry muffins she made last week (which were amazing). Stuck to a .txt instead of .html so I don't need to think about format in the slightest. Better this way.

It didn't help. I said I'd think. I'm not doing anything more than simmering in self-hate. Doom-thinking about the latest issue with my attempt to escape the liberal arts.

0806

I don't know how I'll get through the fall semester. I managed fall 2022, dropped out in spring 2023, and did six credits online for the summer. Now I'll be walking too much and using my hands too much and living in a dorm. The math will be fun. Everything else will be miserable.

Cue: more instances of trying to be involved and only feeling worse about myself. Don't know why I should try when I already know what the outcome will be. Same as it always has been. You enter a space that claims to be for people like you, realize you aren't welcome / are still an outsider / aren't actually like them. Oh, sure, it's a group for autistic people but you're too weird to be a part of it. Everybody knows how to interact. You don't. They learned. They adapted. You didn't. But hey, you've accepted your failure, didn't you say as much? You don't deserve to be around other people and you're fine with it.

So it goes.

0808

More Marianas Trench today. Pulling up Dearly Departed, from the album Astoria. This verse is an amalgamation of references to previous albums. None of them feel forced:
(MT: Masterpiece Theatre (2009); EA: Ever After (2011))

> Every masterpiece I'd write again (MT)
> You'll always be my porcelain (Porcelain - EA)
> I crossed my heart (Cross My Heart - MT)
> But I stuttered too (Stutter - EA)
> So truth or dare (Truth or Dare - EA)
> Was I good to you (Good to You - MT)
> Haven't had enough of you all to myself (All to Myself - MT)

Unsure if these are a reference:

> Still right beside you
> In sickness and health

And these three are No Place Like Home (EA)

> For ever after
> You will be my home
> And there's no place like home

"End of an Era" also references MT. The background track contains motifs that appeared in "Masterpiece Theatre III."

A brief look at different videos featuring Yann Tiersen's Monochrome:
Yann Tiersen - Monochrome - Duzeduzebah - fun cover using flute and piano. Nothing notable; just a good sound.

Monochrome - Yann Tiersen - VReyF - cover by a percussion ensemble. They sound a bit awkward at first; improve as they go along (especially once the piano starts using the pedal).

Monochrome - Yann Tiersen (con Mis Amigos) - Andrés Urrutia - it's cute is all. A bit of a mix of different clips from this person's daily life moreso than some sort of fan music video.

MONOCHROME - Ági Lévai - someone involved in this must be a film student. She's done well. Intentional bits of daily life. Isolating.

Echoes - AJourneyMan18 - love the stop-motion clothes idea. Captures the feeling of the song exceedingly well. Barely a person.

It's A Trap! - Monochrome (cover) - ericslug - the only cover I saw that had some reinterpretation of the song (not just recreating the original; light modifications to lyrics and rhythms and whatnot). There's a good vibe here.

0810

I tried to say I needed space.

Now I have it.

"So it goes" is a lie because I can't bring myself to be at peace with it. I don't know where I am because my 'emotions' are some ball of nonsense I don't know how to detangle. It's all blue and black static. I did (do) care, but what I was doing wasn't enough or wasn't showing. I don't mourn the time wasted, the sheer number of events / things I wanted to attend that I missed / weather I didn't enjoy / days I didn't practice / separation from my family / all the time spent at my computer _for_ him. I don't think I regret it.

Maybe I should.

Curse calculus. Curse my suddenly busy life. I have time back and I. hate. it.

> you sure have a funny way of showing it.
> not funny 'haha'
> funny as in wtf is wrong with you
> as in just die already
Spent 1.5hr trying to clean the toaster. Most of the time was spent searching for the right screwdriver or drillbit, only to end up forcing a flathead to work. Couldn't even take the toaster apart properly. The screws that I needed to remove were inaccessible. A disturbing number of large crumbs and charred chunks of breads were hidden from sight. Nothing visible could be cleaned. Fault of companies making it impossible for consumers to take apart their products. Maybe?

Damn toaster. I don't even use it. Just bothered by it. One of the books I've been reading might say that it's symptomatic of a different problem; I saying 'I'm bothered by the toaster' when there are other things that are the actual problem. The toaster is irrelevant. Exceedingly so. Can't even recall the last time I used it. I've been tempted---cream cheese, warm bagel sounds so delicious---but I know it'll only make me feel awful. It was _never_ worth it.

confused.

failure

House of Leaves^TMwhy?

0817

Lighten it up with a documentary subject you'll never see.

0825

A few songs on my mind:

A cover of The Room Where it Happens. I've yet to listen through Hamilton (I know, I've been a terrible theatre kid). Doesn't stop me from enjoying this group of women.
Eva Noblezada's cover of Take Me To Church. (I prefer this to the original). Damn is she good. Her stage presence feels a little awkward at first, but she gets into it.
All You Wanna Do from the musical Six. Fun character, good singer, and the lead-up into it is pretty funny. Jabs at everyone. "Your lives sounded terrible! And your songs (long pause) really helped to convey that." "Dying of natural causes. When will justice be served?!"
Candy Store - aahhh. Heathers. Love em. The "Are we gonna have a problem? You got a bone to pick? You've come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?" is <3 Followed by "Honey whatchu waiting for-""SHUT UP HEATHER." (Side note: always funny to just see JD sitting in the background. Reading. Contemplating bombs. Normal teenage things.)

And now I've been distracted by Heathers. What can I say, the slime tutorial is right there. The "Does your mommy know you eat all this crap?" "Not anymore!" line is perfect. "Thanks, Heather, but I don't really need to vomit right now." Followup: "I'm resigning from the Lipgloss Gestapo. I'm returning to civilian life." Proceeds to vomit all over Heather. "Oh, lick it up baby. Lick. it. up."

Time for Dead Girl Walking. OH YEAH. She is so alskdjf. "Shut your mouth" mm. The scene is just delicious.

"That stuff will kill her." "Thus ending her hangover!"

Nah he's funny.

So you avoided date rape. By volunteering me. For date rape.

I shouldn't be laughing as much as I am. I know, I know, I am truly a terrible person. We've reached Our Love is God. The only good love song you'll ever hear. yay. Kill the jocks. Would be better if Veronica was into JD's questionable interests. Or shared obsessions. Something like that. But then she wouldn't be herself.

Dear Diary: my teenage bullshit has a body count.

Good girl. Whats-her-face: "Something doesn't add up. I think Kurt and Ram were murdered" leads into another good line:

Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw!

Another funny one:

Whether they kill themselves or not is one of the most important decisions a teenager can make.

And a mood (though I've a strong dislike for the entire song):

And I'll build a dream that I can live in / and this time, I'm never waking up.

Time for more good music. "Sorry for coming through the window. Dreadful etiquette" oh JD <3.

Say hi to God.

:(

There are no happy endings for our favorite people. The rest of the ending gets a bit too optimistic and cheesy.

0820

Still moping. Pathetic. I should accept that nobody will ever want to talk to someone who's favorite form of media is written by adults with too much free time. Nobody will ever accept me as I am. I should just slap on a mask and get over myself already. Can't. Will never be able to make up my mind. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

In true me form, I'm rereading rock, meet hard place. I still feel guilty for wanting to reread HoL. This one will suffice. Looking forward to his drunk weekend spiral. It hurts and it makes sense and it hurts. Berate away.

But this is different. Jon agreed to it. He can deal with any personal fallout by himself.

That evening, Jon doesn’t even try to resist. He’s just going give in eventually, might as well do it the easy way.

He’s going to hate this.
Perfect.

I can't wait to be back on campus and play the avoiding food game. No more you should come eat dinner/lunch/breakfast or if you're hungry you should eat something. No more easy food on hand. Just you don't need food and you don't deserve to eat. Air for every meal; my favorite.

Any weird reactions he has are on him.

Everybody has someone else. Even Jon. I've no-one. I'm fine. I'm better without people. People are better without me.

“I know, I know I can’t seem to stop doing the wrong thing every single time I have the chance. I get the wrong job, I say the wrong thing, I can’t act right, I can’t do what people want, and now I--”

God, he’s pathetic. He screws up everything with Martin and Tim and instead of going back downstairs and apologizing like a normal person he runs away and gets busy getting wasted before ten a.m. just to calm down.

Reading the recovery section of the aforementioned fic hurts. He has people he can trust, and people he can go back to. I never will.

> so everything should be about you now
> everything must cater to you
> so. fucking. childish.
> this is why everyone hates you.

They don’t trust you and they shouldn’t, it says. They treat you like a child and they should.

From The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa:

But you, in your vague essence, are nothing. You have no reality, not even your own.

Rings true.

I'm telling myself that I'll go to the activities fair. Give campus events a try before dismissing them. Admittedly, people at my last two colleges were shit and I doubt a third will be all that different. But. But. I'll give it a chance.

I keep saying that people and I are better off without each other. I've never spoken to enough people to have a genuine sample size. I can count 'em on my fingers. Bad math. One more shot, and then I'll accept a truth.

Absolutely hate the phrase "touch of the 'tism." Why cute-ify this soul-sucking genetic defect? uWu look at me, I'm so :sparkle: 'tistic :sparkle: (flips hair back cutely). Kill. me. Medical and derogatory context were enough. Nobody needs . . . whatever the hell that is. Tiktok illness. All teenagers are idiots. No exceptions.

0821

Found myself rereading some of my old fanfics. This one stuck out. I think I wrote it shortly after reading Fortuna (Kristyn Merbeth); the influence of that sci-fi setting is clear. I miss the days when I did write so much. This would've been when I was still sending my wrists to an early grave. I could write thousands of words a day back then. I can do a few thousand in a day, but I can't do much of anything for the next few. Frustrating. Now it's less pain and only exhaustion, some achiness. I do my wrist-strengthening exercises on a regular basis; maybe it's time to increase the weight. Would that help? It's worth a shot.

Whenever I think about myself, I feel like I'm about to cry. So I hit ignore and move on.

I've been trying to recognize emotions. Trying to notice that there is An Emotion, trying to understand where it came from, trying to understand what it is. FAILING. I recognize things, maybe they're emotions, maybe they aren't, how do I know there's an emotion? How do I know what tangible signs of emotion correspond to a feeling? What feeling? I feel like I'm about to cry; am I: sad, lonely, tired, depressed, exhausted, melancholy, pensive, wistful, desolate, regretful, glum, ... ? All of the above? How can I know? They're my feelings; I should know. How can I? How does everyone else?

I'm catching myself daydreaming and forcing myself to stop. Remember what I'm actually doing. No wandering, no ruminating, no meandering, no way to keep fleeing reality.

Anchoring myself is difficult. I catch my thoughts wandering and then remind myself of where I am. Set intent. Remember intent.

Too human. I'd rather not be

0822-26

From Alter Ego (chap. 2-5):

I have to stand and face these thoughts. Nothing good comes from avoidance.

Fitting. Is everything trying to call me out? No, that's impossible, but it feels like everything I see is pointing to such.

The last paper I read supports my current methods. I'll keep reminding myself of what I'm doing. Catch my thoughts wandering and pull myself back to reality. I hate it. I'd rather not exist. Reality is a terrible place to be.

How fitting that I won't be able to submit to the latest game jam. I forgot how much I hate programming. And indentation-based langs. SEMICOLONS. It all looks fine, but it tells me otherwise. "Syntax" it's right there you idiot. Aaaarrrgh!

Too much self-work to do to create that visual novel in a week. No, this will be the first one I take time to complete. The idea has been simmering for a while; only now has it coalesced into something usable.

Still. I need to understand myself before it can be complete. I need to understand how to do so. Only then can I know how to write the endings.

Have I grown too content with my failures? With my weaknesses? Yes. Complacency is not acceptable.

Felt time to reread Nausea, or should I say La nausée? Trying to tackle the French. It's been five or six years since I studied French. Evidently, I remember enough to only need to look up every other word. Though I need to brush up on my verb tenses. Relying on context and memory more than I'd like to.

For nobody who's curious: I'm looking up words in one dictionary, noting them in my own 'dictionary,' and gradually rewriting each sentence in English in another document (wouldn't call it translating, more like note-taking). I'll pull out my copy, maybe even an audiobook (of the French) at some point. We shall see how it goes, dear reader. We. shall. see.

Said I'd try Dreamwidth. Failure to interact. As usual. Am I lonely? I've thought not, and I've thought so, and back and forth. On and on 'til the -----. Still: feel like crying. Probably sad. The result of thinking. It's always people, even when I'd rather it not (and why should I have any say in the matter). Went through that last series of interactions because I wanted to talk to someone, was lonely, right? Wasn't all imagined, though I wouldn't put it past myself to do so. Maybe 'twas an overextended daydream. Lost myself in there before. Did it happen again? Makes more sense, almost. I'm the only person who would ever choose to talk to myself. Though it's all---can't find the words, they're not right. People have always been like this. Like what? Like ---?

They are all the same. Everyone from [? from first grade] to [redacted]. All. the. same. See--

> we're doing this?

Mm.

Beloved reader: this is not a judgement-free zone. This is a pity-free zone. You will judge, mock, and not feel sorry for me. Entertainment ahoy!

School was always rough. My academics were fine; 'twas just the socialization bit that I'd struggle with. I preferred books to people well before I started school. I've too many siblings; books were an acceptable way to ignore them. And they were interesting. Who needed reality when you could solve mysteries with the Boxcar children, or the Hardy Boys, Trixie Belden, Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, Dana Girls . . . wasn't great at interacting with my siblings either. The three of them got along well. They played together. My definition of playing was telling them stories. I'd take characters from Star Wars. What happened to them? I was very fond of Emperor Palpatine's force-lightning, so there was a bit of characters being hit with that. Han Solo in carbonite turned to him being stuffed (as in: being force-fed well beyond what he needed to eat). I'd put them in cages for no apparent reason. I had one set of stories about 'baby Luke and Leia' (fans, please pardon the oncoming series of innacuracies. I was five). That was a world where Anakin and Padme were alive and well; they were raising a young Luke and Leia (typically aged five, or six, or however old I was at the time). Our young children kept attempting to make cakes for their parents. These cakes had innacurate ingredients; all outcomes led to their parents being poisoned by them. Thus, the children kept killing their parents. On accident.

Needless to say, my siblings did (and still do) not talk to me all that much. My tales were disturbing.

> you've already lost the plot

Mmmk. So. First grade: read a lot, did well in class, well enough for the teacher to routinely single me out for doing well. My classmates spoke to me to mock me. A handful of incidents come to mind, though the memories are too vague for me to try and put them into words. Me screaming in the bathroom when someone crawled into the stall I was in (I was the one punished for this). Reading during recess only for someone to steal my (library!) books. People stealing my pencils. People hiding my lunchbox. Never being invited to birthday parties. In gym and being told I ruined everything. In gym and not knowing the rules of games I'd never played (cue mocking). Nothing significant, but enough for me to feel uncomfortable around people.

Second grade. We moved, so I started the year at a new school. Foolish me thought that it would be better. She'd make friends, and she wouldn't be made fun of, and nobody would steal her things ever. Idiot.

Looping, in this context: the first grade teacher becomes a second grade teacher and takes all of her first grade students with her. The class I was in had looped; meaning I was the only new person in the class. I was an outsider. An intruder. Everybody else knew each other well. They complained about needing to play getting to know you games (every complaint ending with the teacher noting that there was a new student who didn't know everybody. They needed to be welcoming. LOL). Their friend groups were very set, having carried over from the previous year.

Another handful of recollections. There were these folders that we'd stand on our desks when taking tests. You weren't supposed to write in them. A group of boys thought it funny to write my name in many of them. The teacher didn't believe I'd written my name in them (I think? I remember the incident well, the aftermath less so). We had nametags on our desks. Came back from recess one day to find a classmate's nametag was stolen. It was in my desk. Again, the teacher didn't believe I'd taken it (though my classmates sure thought otherwise). The person who the nametag belonged to also stole my pencils, erasers, books, etc. on a regular basis.

This one girl came over to tell me a group of boys was talking about me. Okay, fine, whatever, is what I thought. She kept bugging me to go over and talk to them about it. I gave into peer pressure and did so. The group of boys had no idea what I was talking about. I asked her again; she said it was somebody else (????). Other incidents: the usual last-one-picked for teams in gym. This was the first time I tried skipping classes. I would hide in the bathroom. Sometimes the teacher would let me; sometimes she'd let me sit out on an activity. Either option only illustrated my separation. I was only a part of my class in name.

I had my adenoids removed that school year. Missed a few days of school because of it. Naturally, nobody noticed my absence. We all had to write cards for a classmate when he had the same surgery. Me? Nada. More incidents: this girl who would keep inviting me to play with her and then tell me she was too busy with her other friends. Never having someone to 'buddy read' with (to a point where I was exempt from that required activity. People would rather be in groups of three than work with me). Not being invited to birthday parties (my invitation was always misplaced). Ostracization increased due to the usual string of empty praise; I was always reading, always turning my work in on time, always getting everything right (again, it's not like the work was hard!).

I wasn't familiar with pop music, or the movies my classmates watched, or any of the things they talked about. I wasn't allowed to listen to the music that they listened to. I wasn't allowed to watch the movies that they watched. I wasn't involved in any sports; the only outside of school activities I had were church and religious ed. I didn't even go to the same church that my church-attending classmates went to.

Another incident comes to mind. My parents did not raise us with the idea of Santa. I didn't hear about Santa until I was in school. This was a bit of an issue in second grade. My classmates were die-hard believers, coming in after winter break with PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE THAT SANTA WAS THERE. I didn't understand it. Who was Santa? Aren't the presents from your family? Also, your logic makes no sense. I didn't mean to argue with my classmates, but I did anyways. 'twas just another thing that was wrong with me. Might have been the nail in the coffin of my nonexistent social life.

The rest of elementary school was much of the same. People stole my things. People insulted me. I sat alone at lunch. I kept my nose in my books. It was safer that way. Talking to others only resulted in me being hurt. The teachers turned a blind eye; oh, they'd say that they were against bullying (and give speeches and whatnot), but they couldn't do anything about it. I never felt safe in school.

Fifth grade. This 'popular girl' makes lists of what is IN and what is OUT. She made a new list to distribute to her friends every week. It didn't mean much, other than one thing: I was the only person in our school to ever be on the OUT list. See, everything else on the lists was shit like music, clothes, activities, random pre-teen things. Except for me, who you were not supposed to talk to or acknowledge. Unless you were insulting me, in which interactions were a-ok.

I recall one person talking to me. We argued over whether or not Pluto was a planet. Another person who proposed to me and told me he burned books.

Fifth grade was also the first time I saw a therapist. See, my doctor was worried about the answers I kept giving to those questionnaires from every year. He'd already slapped me with anxiety in second grade, but there might've been something else wrong. It didn't help that little Lucy was foolish enough to fantasize about being dead while talking to her parents. As in, I was idiotic enough to not realize that contemplating suicide was something that I should keep to myself. Apparently it was all 'cause for concern' and 'abnormal behavior.' Nothing of note came from that handful of therapy sessions. I never understood why I was there, or what I was supposed to do. It was mostly my mom sitting there and talking to the therapist while I just sat there and tuned out the conversation. Maybe I was daydreaming.

Writing this out, I'd not call any of my behavior abnormal. C'est a reasonable reaction to my environment. What could I have done to make my classmates treat me like a person? I didn't know then; don't know now. They'd only insult me. I was an outsider, an alien, something less than human that didn't deserve to be around them. I kept quiet and read.

Crossing midnight as I turn to middle school. Fitting. It's a hellhole for all involved. I started sixth grade with high hopes. New school, new people; new start. I would talk to people and have friends and there would never be problems again.

> you really were an idiot

I. know. Most of my classmates were pleasant to me; as in, they never acknowledged my existence (in a manner negative or otherwise). To most people, I was nobody. Sure, I still felt out of place, but it was a marked improvement over my entire elementary school experience.

I'm ignoring one major detail. I made the unfortunate mistake of reading manga; even worse, I would read manga in school. Shamelessly carried that shit around. What's worse: I wasn't even reading the stuff everybody heard of (one piece, naruto, etc.). I was reading Tsubasa and Rave Master. Unfortunately, this caught the eye of a guy in my class. He proceeded to make my life a living hell. He would steal my things, try to follow me into the bathroom, kick me, insult me, and I don't even remember what else. (He also attempted to stab me on a much later occasion. That incident occurred after he asked me out). I punched him once; this was after he snuck up behind me and attempted to scare me.

His behaviors left me feeling unsafe in school. This, in turn, meant I spent an egregious amount of time crying, burying my nose in books, trying to forget that I existed, and contemplating suicide.

My resulting behaviors meant my parents thought I was on drugs. They repeatedly searched my room, banned me from using electronics, and tried to limit my reading. They calmed down once they found out that some guy was responsible for my problems.

Summer before seventh grade. I got my first social media app: Amino. After spending months cooped up in one fandom, I ventured to the outside world and discovered subliminals. Quick primer: subliminals are affirmations that aren't audible. Ya listen to a video, you hear meh music, underneath it is someone whispering shit. This is supposed to change your life. You'll get the desired effects of whatever the video claims you'll get, be it good looks, good friends, or the ability to shapeshift. Y'know. Things that can absolutely happen.

Subliminals promised to fix my problems. I kept playing them, kept searching for new subliminals, kept scrolling through Subliminal Users Amino. Everybody was finding success when they just tried hard enough. With enough subliminal usage, I too could have clear skin and amazing friends.

Unfortunately, too much time in subliminal user groups introduced me to reality shifting. For those lucky enough to have never encountered this foul phenomenon: it's based on parallel universes. You can exit one universe and enter another. Just like changing the channel. Now. This could have been a harmless waste of time. Weird denial of science, sure, but it shouldn't be that much of a problem.

I'd tell myself that what I was seeing wasn't real. What I was experiencing wasn't real. I was actually in my dream reality, a perfect world, and the universe was just trying to trick me. In other words: I kept denying reality. And I did so for too many years. Finally stopped around 10th or 11th grade. My lack of shifting got through to me several times before then, but I was in too deep. I'd tell myself I wasn't trying hard enough. My increasing lack of belief was a sign I was about to shift; it was just the universe playing tricks on me again. Cruel tricks. Such a load of bullshit. I was desperate and needed a way out and wanted to live in a world where I could live.

Reality shifting is not unlike a cult. To leave, you need to interact with people outside of it. Wander to other corners of the internet. Read. Go outside. Touch grass. It takes time to exit your beliefs and realize how delusional you were. It takes time to realize that you've been living a lie. No amount of trying to convince someone that their beliefs are wrong will help. They need to realize it for themself.

Seventh grade was another hellhole. As in elementary school, all of my classmates were there to ridicule me. I was an easy target: I lugged a dictionary around, as well as a pile of books, and spent every free moment of the school day studying or reading. To make things worse, I switched from manga to nonfiction. Mostly math and science. A visible nerd is not a good thing to be.

Regular threats of sexual violence emerged. I started to spend my lunch hiding in the bathroom. I was exceedingly self-conscious about the amount of noise I might make while eating in the near-silent bathroom. Worried I may alert others of my presence. Thus began a quick descent into disordered eating. I was less likely to be hungry at lunch if I skipped breakfast, so I skipped breakfast. I'd minimize what I ate for dinner, sticking to small portions. At one point, I was trying to make sure the amount of food I ate in a day could fit in a small bowl. I had to estimate whether or not what I ate would exceed that amount, so I just ate less.

Enter: edblr. Eating disorder tumblr. Proana. A way to exert control over a life I felt I had no control over. My bad habits were given a new reason: nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

The year wasn't all bad. History class introduced me to Stoicism, which I still credit with giving me a way to manage some of my anxiety. I discovered minimalism (well, that Mari Kondo book); this was another way to exert control over my life. With a bit of work (constant reminders to myself, come back to center), I realized there were things I could control, and that I just had to live with things being outside. Life is life. This may have evolved into unnecessary indifference?

I'm writing this down to make sense of things. Creating something concrete that I can look back on later. What was a late-night vent has turned into a multi-day affair. Not as cathartic as I hoped, yet, but it is something to work with.

8th grade was a breath of fresh air. My classmates treated me fine; I was nobody, to most of them, and acceptably weird to the rest. There were two guys I spoke to on a regular basis. Never outside of school, dunno if the option crossed my mind. I'd only call us good acquaintances. One of them edited an arrangement I made for the concert band. We played this arrangement in concert. I was also the arranger for the a capella group. Pianist for one of the chorus pieces. Was part of the district chorus (this was audition only!). Needless to say, it was a good year for music.

This was also the year I read HoL. I devoured it; it was the first interesting book I had read in years. Vonnegut and Nabokov and Sartre came along here. Wonderful reading. Wonderful use of time.

9th grade was much of the same. Bar the addition of panic attacks. Or so-called, given that this is what the nurse/guidance counselor would tell me happened. I don't remember the early ones all that well. Unfortunately, that first one left me constantly on edge. I was worried that they would happen again. They were out of my control. It had happen once, could happen again, and that terrified me. The only solution the internet offered was medication. No thank you.

I forgot how much those panic attacks weighed down on me. My life finally felt like it was going well, external chaos had toned down, and yet something that was out of my control (by definition) came along. Any progress I made socially was immediately negated by them. I was consumed by a constant stream of what-ifs and feeling like I needed to make plans for what would happen if I had a panic attack in (insert scenario here). I was consumed; I let myself be consumed. Needless to say I was not coping.

I had ceased speaking to my classmates. The following year, I was in a class rooted in in-class discussions (the teacher rarely spoke). I couldn't convince myself to join the groups. According to the teacher, I spent most of the first month crying. I don't remember it. That was all it took to further remove me from my classmates. I had given in to invisible problems, maybe, or let myself succumb to ---? All I wanted to do was stop existing.

Covid hit. School---my one anchor to reality---fell to shambles. I ceased to be real. There was nothing. I was nothing. I did not exist.

11th grade. Full-remote school. I threw myself into my studies, going so far as to self-study for a handful of AP exams. (NOT A GOOD IDEA. AP IS A WASTE OF TIME). I don't remember doing much else. I spent my days inside, fearful of the diseased world. I wasn't all that present. Too much daydreaming, whether or not I had the time to do so. Reading---even fanfiction---fell to the wayside. Barely real.

Final year of high school was in person, thankfully. Disillusioned by rigorous coursework, I kept a simpler schedule. One AP class, no self-study, no exam. Somehow, something went wrong. A new breed of panic attacks emerged; these, where I was in realities that didn't exist but felt real anyways. My regular daydreaming blurred the line between fantasy and reality. If this happened in class and a teacher noticed, I'd be brought down to the nurse or guidance office. This occured enough times for my guidance counselor to call my parents. She handed them a list of therapists.

The rest of this has already been noted.

I'm trying to figure out if I want to interact with people. Am I lonely? What do I want from them?

In June, I did think I was lonely. I'm not so sure now. Maybe it was the meds.

That didn't make losing contact with an acquaintance any less painful. Unsure why. It wasn't a one-and-done conversation like all others I've had in the past few years. They weren't a nobody to me, though I was shit at showing that. There's something wrong with how I communicate.

> you don't say

Seeing my siblings hang out with their friends does leave me feeling lonely. I wish I had people to do things with. Reminded of the time I spent working with a guy in 8th grade. He helped me with the arrangement. Yes, I did most of the heavy lifting, but he was the one who perfected it. It was nice to work on something with someone. It helped that I trusted his opinion. We'd spent enough time goofing off between classes to have some understanding of each other. I felt safe around him, even though I was never quite sure what I was doing.

Recalling another guy from 9th grade. Almost forgot about him. (Sorry, M, you were exactly as boring as you thought you were). He gave me something to look forward to. The day would be shit but at least he'd be there for me. We had most of our classes together, last names close together. Recalling Fluff, who I mostly spoke to because we sat next to each other in hell. Maybe I miss/crave what people can be to me and who I can be to them. To not be a nobody or an object of ridicule. To be. Esse. essere. être.

Is it that I knew how to interact with others and that skill fell out of practice? Looking over this, I rarely sought out interacting with others. Not very inclined to doing so. Maybe I'd've been different if covid never hit. I isolated myself too much after that, even when I was back in in-person schooling. I managed to attend two colleges without acquainting myself with any of my classmates. I didn't try. I should have. I can think of a handful of people I wish I spoke to. Can't change that, but I can try to stop it from happening again? Blah. Talking is hard, even when it is worth it.

Another bit. Thinking of a few things. There were people who spoke to me. I didn't mean to dismiss them (or respond in a manner akin to 'giving up', as one might put it). I was taking things too literally? Not being open enough? Willing? Participating on others' terms? Not quite the right word. I didn't mean to be rejecting, or dismissal, but I still was. This was not a one time thing, or a one year thing. Another pattern. My being alone is my fault.

> and it took this long for you to get it?

Yes, yes, I really am quite dumb. 'Tis what I have to work with.

The solution to that must be to pay attention. Think before speaking, but not too much, just enough to figure out if the response is closing off or not. Course, this requires talking to people . . .

Haven't quite addressed the recurring escapism. There were reasons for it (see: how people treated me; dealing with remote schooling, dealing with life). Turned into a habit. I didn't realize it could be a choice; i. e. I could choose not too. Lacking in awareness. Remembering I exist, be present, back to center is a way to address this. One start. (We'll see how this goes, even as I'm trying and failing. Existing is hard. I'd rather not. Though, being unwilling(?) to change that, I'll just address it anyhow.)

0823

All the King's Men - The Rigs

When all the king's men / and all their horses / can't find a way to / a way to save you

Dear God - Lawless, Sydney Wayser

And all the people that you made in your image / Keep believing that junk is true / Well I know you didn't, so do you / Dear God / I can't believe in / I don't believe in

Dear Alice - arai tasuku

You're falling through the cracks of time / only to remain the same

Arguing with my family about food / making my own dietary choices may have initially been due to health reasons. Revealed new reason: I am so very tired of being the family compost bin. I am not responsible for the food waste my siblings and parents create. I will not be made to feel guilty about what I do and don't eat. Hopefully, going back to living on campus will give us the space we need. My family needs to let me be my own person; I need to stop dealing with their reprimands and forced-guilt. (...and how can my mom hear that much about nutrition on her own time and still feed the youngest this much crap? Or feel okay with her choices? She just doesn't care. Aaaarrrghhhh.)

Did anything else happen today? Saw a black bear in the backyard. It undulated across the yard; its movements were smooth, not at all pronounced. Beautiful. And adorable!

Made it through three sentences of La nausée. It is exhausting. I'd like to work in small spurts throughout the day. Difficult, I'm too out of practice to do so well, and I'll attempt anyways.

0824

I don't need to reread Hol.

Really. Using fictional characters to try to understand myself is only a lie. An incidental one, but a lie nontheless. An unnecessary obstacle to coping; really, an illusion of doing so.

I can't stand astrology. Using the new moon as a cue for reflection/reassessment is fine. That works for me. But trying to put stock in any of this signs and stars bullshit? Na, fam. Not for me.

I will not be misled into taking another pill, psychiatric, birth control, or otherwise. (Painkillers included, all of 'em stop working at a point anyways). All they've done is create problems. The potential pros do not outweigh the very real cons. Don't know how much longer I can keep misleading my parents. I've a couple months until I would have needed a refill. There's time to decide the best time to rip the bandage off. When will they be the least angry, prone to reprimanding, ready to tell me to go back to a doctor and get something else. (My parents have seen what these pills do to me, yet they still think they're the right idea. Aaaaarraraegh.)

Turned an old shirt into some handkerchiefs. Annoyed that doing so felt forbidden. I had to grab a needle and thread from my mom's stuff when everybody was out of the house. She'd criticize or reprimand me for my shirt-to-handkerchief actions, I know. A shame. If not, I could've just used the sewing machine, but noooo. None of this makes sense. Very tired of parent nonsense having too much control over my life; I've no other choice, since I've nowhere else to go and do need their money. And a place to live. Didn't qualify for work/study, so my choices for on-campus work are limited. I'll still apply for my handful of options. Can consider off-campus later.

0825 Rereading old entries. A month since I deleted tumblr, and almost two since I quit psych meds. Just keep paying attention. Snap back to reality. I've spent far too much time zoning out, forgetting what I'm doing, and doing mindlessly. This is a problem. Being aware of it, working on it is progress, but how much progress I need to make is embarassing. Stop trying to forget you exist. (Or at least, give existing another whirl.)

I've been ignoring my todo list this week. So: integrals, writing, cleaning, reading: la nausèe, other fic or nonfic (no fanfic until everything else is done!), letters; study for permit, apply for jobs, photo, practice. PT. Reassess priorities when done.

That was barely practicing. I want to learn jazz, don't know where to start. Need to spend more time listening to get a feel for it. Grabbed one pdf, not all that interesting. Maybe I enjoyed listening to the technicalities of bebop too much. If I'm to keep playing, I won't be sticking to classical-umbrella any longer. I am so very tired of it and not all that interested. I've nine years of playing; it's time to deviate.

Having finished the first paragraph of La nausée, I rewarded myself with the first 24 seconds of an audiobook. Slowing it down to .5x; listening; trying to repeat with correct pronounciation. I forgot how many letters are forgotten when speaking. Are words being dropped? Reading it aloud feels like a tongue twister; half due to unfamiliarity, half due to French. Really, I dislike French.

> then why push yourself through this?

New distraction. New challenge. I wanted to reread it; why not do so in a manner totally different from my past re-reads?

> and a different translation wouldn't suffice?

Exactly. I must create unnecessarily difficult (and fun!) problems for myself. Seriously, though, it satisfies my desire to re-engage with the same text.

My so-called misophonia and misokinesia seem to have vanished. I witness a former irritant; it only bothers me. There's no anger, no urge to scream, no desire to cut off my ears or scoop out my eyes. Worried that this is only due to my time away from irritants. My family's noises and motions are nowhere near that of the classmates who drove me crazy. I'm not in a room with twenty people sniffling and leg-jiggling to varying degrees. Still. Please let this be permanent. Please.

hr/>

Why am I deluding myself into thinking the future will be any different. I just see other people hanging out around each other and smiling and laughing and being comfortable around each other. They look happy. They're there for each other. I want that. I won't get that; I don't deserve that.

Damnit. I'm going to---argh. Right. Try. And when I fail, I'll at least be able to say I tried. Gave reality a shake and it didn't work. Maybe it will. It's a bit foolish to think that, isn't it.

> well you've learned nothing

Eh. I can write (poorly), I can read (eh), and try to convince myself. Right? That's. Worse it'll do is make me feel worse, which is pretty normal. Just a different source. Just. try.

Everything changes and nothing changes and will you just stop making excuses already.

> you have a brain, why don't you just use it
> and make up your mind
> you're the only one who needs a slap in the face
> why don't
> why don't
> why don't

Why don't indeed.

Made tangible: you want to create fiction, great. Speak to others and you'll do so better. Less-tangible reasons aren't as great a drive as tangible ones. Though the underlying reason is intangible, frame it as something tangible. (Writes in circles). This will work.

0826

Trying to find the balance between reviewing the past and ruminating. Trying to figure out how I can do better without getting lost in what-ifs from then. Trying to not daydream. Trying to exist.

Feels like it's just another delusion. There's no reason to think this will be any different. Every idea is wrong. I'll hurt people and create more problems and dig a deeper hole for myself. No good reason to try elsewise. How many times have I contradicted myself this week? Already looping Failure Girl. Bring on the familiar spiral. I'm tired.

0827

Fear not, dear reader. I have graduated from depressed vocaloid covers. Back to Marianas Trench: first Phantoms, now back to Masterpiece Theatre. From All to Myself (because this quote is too relatable):

Don't patronise / I realize / I'm losing and this is my real life / I'm half asleep / and I'm wide awake / This habit is always so hard to break

September

0901 - 0912

0901 - disappointment: What a failure of week. Haven't done anything I said I'd do. No further reading of la nausée, no work on the visual novel, no jazz clarinet, very little reading. There's been some clarinet. Went bach to Bach. I spent a few years working on the cello suites on bass clarinet, so playing them on clarinet is odd. Some difficult bits are decidingly less difficult. The clarinet is more mobile (not quite the right word. Flexible?) than bass clarinet could ever be. Though I'm doing little more than meandering through pieces, dabbling but not actually practicing. It's shit. Doesn't matter. I'll lose practice time in a week.
Trying to watch Glee brings back odd memories. Initially, I think I miss the community of music groups. Then I remember rehearsals and sitting around while everybody else socialized and always always being the odd one out. Sure, there was nothing like showtime---the delicious feeling of performance, having completed something with other people---but everything leading up to that was isolating. I only felt like I was a part of something when we were playing. When we weren't playing, I was back to being the odd one out. No socialization included.

Maybe I just like the idea of people. That's all daydreams are, after all. The idea of someone.
0908 - first week: Offline-people-wise, the first week of classes has been uneventful. Went to the club fair and failed to do little more than sit in a corner and read. The extent of talking to my peers has been giving someone directions. Then again, everybody is already busy talking to each other, and I've no real reason to speak.

> then why write? why complain?

Tssk. Contradictions. The only constant.
0909 - classes and r/illnessfakers: House of Asmodeus has been stuck in my head. This cover is great. Love the build up into "You sold your life for a thrust / Yeah, that's the spirit of lust" in the original. Something about it is delicious. So is the relationship between Stolas & Blitzø. All miscommunication and problems. Great for fiction.
One week of school done. At my last two colleges, my classes had 4-16 people; all of my classes here have ~50 people. I like the anonymity of it.

As is expected, I have failed to socialize. Attended some transfer events (spoke to no-one), attended the activities fair (spoke to no-one). Have given two people directions. Funny how the freshman are all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Their spirits will be broken soon enough. My programming class is mostly freshman, and their high-energy no-attention span behavior is obnoxious. Put your phones away! I can see your screens (fucking tiktok). You aren't fooling anyone. Some of their questions are so idiotic that I have to wonder how they got into college. Then again, the same goes for (checks notes) the last two colleges I was at. Some things never change.
Checking r/illnessfakers for the first time in a few months is odd. Cheyanne died, Dani has new toys, and word is that Kelly isn't doing well. The latter is only coming from comments, mind you, as I ain't looking into her social media. If true, very disappointing. I'd hoped that her situation was closer to body integrity disorder, so amputation should have been enough. Perhaps not. Cheyanne's death comes as no surprise. What was it, 5 organ transplants? They were necessary, probably, but the outlook was grim to begin with. Reading her last posts are weird. She knew she was close to death.

At least Kay is still boring. Yay, reliable Kay. Her memes are starting to become self-aware.

She's the one I could see recovering. She isn't in as deep as everyone else being tracked on the sub. Yes, she's enough faking to be considered faking, but she's not about to munch herself to death. Not that the others don't have a chance. I really, really hope someone will "grow out" of being a subject.

...and Autie tried to slash her throat on livestream. Apparently not the first of her on-camera suicide attempts? Each of these people are "the most concerning" in their own way. Hers (or was it theirs?) is concerning because of the extreme level of attention seeking behaviors. She comes across as being exceedingly detached from reality. Sometimes I see her posts and think I accidentally clicked on r/fakedisordercringe, but no, it's just a grown-ass woman who doesn't even have custody of her child.

(I really want to make a joke about Hope and VSED. I don't wish death on any of these people. But I'm half-expecting her to go back to her VSED bullshit any moment now.)
0910 - hands: I hate my hands.

I really hoped giving them a nice break Friday afternoon, most of Saturday, and a good chunk of Sunday would be enough. But no. I'm not even sure I'll be able to finish my homework. I'm practically doing inverse pomodoros---20 minutes of work, 40 minutes of rest---just to try and get by. Fuck. I need some painkillers that actually work. What bothers me more is that lifestyle changes (diet, exercise, etc.) have had a difference on most---if not all?---of my other pains. Except for my wrist/hand/finger issues, which just keep fucking with my life. But hey, maybe talking to a doctor about it for the I-don't-even-know-which-number-th time will make a difference. Just gotta wait a few months. Fuck.
0912 - books: People are funny. When I step out of myself. Series of communication output. Might be null. Might not be.

Owning a book implies it means something to you. It's important enough, or you use it enough, for you to have purchased a physical copy of it.

In the past---you can/should laugh at me for this---I've seen books as things to collect. All "look at the books I have" and maybe some pretentious shit. After all, you should read the books you buy. Owning books also shows that you are (or were) a bookworm. I thought of it as an identity thing. I was wrong. I got nothing out of having an overflowing bookshelf, other than a sense of obligation to read and reread books I didn't care about. Really, a good percentage---half, at least---of the books I've reread weren't worth a reread. Certainly not more than one. What a headache.

Right now, the fiction I'm holding onto is steadily shrinking.

House of Leaves may be the only piece of fiction I've bought that was worth it. It's been subject to countless annotations, sticky notes, and misc. stationery encounters. Amongst all the other times I would pull it off my shelf and reference a page.

What else is there? A copy of Asimov's Pebble in the Sky, which I received in 4th or 5th grade. I reread it many times then. I can't recall the last time I reread it. Seanan McGuire's Middlegame, which I've grown more conflicted on. Each reread illuminates more flaws. It still is true to some ideas I hold dear. I wasn't able to reread Slaughterhouse 5 the most recent time I tried. I've read it a few times in the past---for school and not. It may be ready to go. V for Vendetta is the same. Who Could that be at this hour? will stay. I prefer it to Snicket's other series. His prose remains fun, appropriately a child bookworm in a world I've fondness for. Cover art is also quite nice.

0919 - 0930

0919 - school, library, & marianas trench

Looking back at my entries from this time last year is funny. Most of them look like venting. Now, I might as well not have the time to vent. The difference between a liberal arts major and a math major, I suppose; or in colleges; or in how far along in college. Heh. Though I was taking more credits of math then than now (8 vs 6), come to think of it, but intro to math + euclid's elements is a very different workload from discrete structures + linear algebra. It's a good pairing. Right now, linear algebra is more concrete, while discrete is on the more abstract side of things. Empty set here, empty set there, empty set everywhere. Both math classes have compsci and certain engineerings in the majority. The linear algebra professor enjoys shitting on non-math majors. It's good fun.

I mentioned that summer 2022 list ~a month ago. Have gone from 8/63 to 18/63. Unfortunately, a non-zero number of these movies were abandoned partway through. My mom said that Rear Window (1954; it's a Hitchcock) was one of her favorite movies; I made it thirty minutes in before noping out. Characters weren't interesting, plot was going nowhere. Maybe I wasn't paying attention enough to fully appreciate it. But there are better ways to spend my time.

There's a library I like to go to.

It isn't a real library. Just this imaginary, insubstantial dream world spawned from a game (Alter Ego). I don't have a physical form there; I'm something intangible, some self-contained other that doesn't exist in the way others do. I can wander through the shelves, reading haphazardly or intensely. While the books are organized like that of a typical library, every new book is added, so their locations are constantly shifting. It can be an utter pain to navigate.

Visitors tend to be attached to their tangible forms. They come, find what they need, and go. Sometimes I can hear them and guide them to the right book. Most times, though, we don't interact.

I've met a few residents like myself. They've forsaken a physical form in favor of the immortal library. We don't talk.

Some notes on the album Astoria, by Marianas Trench:

This Means War - I can't see the opening of the music video without being reminded of the video for Take On Me.
Shut Up and Kiss Me - This part reminds me of this. Not as strong as a comparison as tying the song to I Want You Back. They may be coincidences, but (with the context of the album) I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Marianas Trench took deliberate inspiration from the Jackson 5. Closing the song with "Don't sound like Mike did / No, but it's all right for a white kid" certainly makes it seem intentional.
Who Do You Love - choral opening starts with one singer (presumably Josh) leading into a full choral part. They've nailed the dramatic feel throughout the song.
End of An Era - I just love the way he says "I'm in over my head." The change in instrumentals. The brief deviation from themes they've been reusing. They never stop revisiting leitmotifs, lyrics, or other references to their former work. I can't quite put my finger on why it works so well for them, but it does. This and this.

Can never forget about Pop 101. I'd talk about it, but the entire song is self-explanatory. It's a fun amalgamation of references. Speaking of I Want it That Way. (that's the whole sentence.)

0920 - discrete structures

Spoke in class! Take that, you cruel brain!.

0921 - people & todo lists

Forty minutes of work, a break to read, and instead of getting back to my todo list I am staring at nothing. I don't want to focus. I don't want to be me. I want to stop existing. I hate who I am but can't even grasp what it is that's wrong with me. And put the self-love positivity bullshit away. There is a normal amount of deviation from average, and there is not. Take a step back, look at the context, and I am not within normal deviation. I can see how other people behave. I do not act like them.

> oh, i see.
> you're 'not like the other girls'

Even they have communities they can fit into. People to converse with. Their 'not like' is still a 'like.'

I also know that intentionally isolating myself from others does me more harm than good. Somehow, shitty failures to interact well do less harm. Though the meetup groups were a wash. Grew tired of this one woman who kept commenting on my age. That group was the only one with okay conversations. Offline people are a wash, as they always have other things to do and aren't interested in talking to new people. Even being in groups of people who (supposedly) struggle with interactions show I am more deficit than the rest of them. Circles in circles.

I still don't understand what's wrong. I try to read between the lines but come to the wrong conclusions. I try to understand people but only misinterpret them. I try to talk but I have nothing of value to say. I try to redirect conversations and be forthcoming but I'm just being selfish and unfair. I don't get it.

Trying to get today back on track. Todo list time: gather notes, criteria, quotes, write the outline. compsci, discrete. write essay, post to DB. linear 2.2. start 2.3 ws and hw. Breaks: reading, clean bathroom, clear inbox.

I don't even want to think about how much time I've spent on linear algebra today. I've spent two hours on the homework for section 2.2 and still have two problems left. To be fair, that is relatively good time, I just wish I could be done with the section already. Gonna take a good long break, see how my wrists are doing, then (if fine) set a 60 minute timer. Whatever gets done then is what gets done.

0922 - problems, people

For once in my life, my problems are more my fault than not. Of course, how to fix them is a very different problem. Or or or. But it is my fault.

Don't know how to feel about this minor (or maybe not so minor) thing that keeps bothering me. I had been talking to someone for long enough that I didn't question a detail I should have questioned. Some odd detail that I chose to justify and brush off instead of clarifying. Less of a "someone lied to me" and more of a "I didn't get the reference, so I thought it was true." It bothers me. I can look back and see that I treated it as true information; why wasn't I corrected then? But no, it's just yet another case of me not getting something. I never get it.

I'm so tired.

I can manage small talk and first convo. Did so for an hour today; just a long moment of meeting someone. Odd to not need to worry about what I'm saying or how the other person may react. Just got to be for an hour. The contents of the conversation were meaningless, but the company wasn't.

0923 - reading

My hobbies and interests are too undefined. Vague. Unfitting.

> oh? it finally hit you

Shhh. Someone had been pointing out how undefined my taste in reading is and how this impacts me. And my gut reaction is that it's fine to dabble all over the place, books are books and I could find the next great one anywhere. But. That vagueness gives me no way to try to find books I might like. Being able to say that you tend to like (especially if a genre) narrows your search.

I'm not sure how to describe feeling like a book "gets" (or "fits"?) you (the reader). There are plenty of good books out there. I should know, I keep reading them. But there's good reading, and then there's reading that fits. This is vague and unrefined but I know what I'm saying. I remember reading Pebble in the Sky (Asimov) at one point; that was what led me to my scifi phase. Those books just fit. Sure, quality varied as much as any other genre, but they worked for me in a way that, say, mysteries didn't. This has changed over time. I don't feel all that drawn to scifi anymore. Unfortunately :(

This is why I haven't been able to reread most of the books I've been trying to reread. Their magic is gone. They don't fit.

> and what does?

I'm trying to identify what I liked about certain books I read recently. Episode 13 got into (spoilers). Tampa just had an unabashedly terrible (and powerful) female lead. Still not sure if that only worked due to novelty. And some fanfics. I'm rereading Gold. I know the plot and I still love seeing it unfold. Dipper's transformation is marvelous. He goes from unwell to a much more interesting kind of unwell. I refuse to spoil it because yes, it just is that good. I may reread Into the Storm next. Similar sort of character transformation. They become something worse. Is that it?

Thinking about characters with lives that spiral out of their control. The descent is key. Maybe that's why Choke (Palahniuk) didn't quite work for me. Whereas this fic still does. Might be time for a Flowey is Not a Good Life Coach reread. Oooh that fic was good. It's never the first fic to come to mind, but I've been rereading it for. Umm. Five or six years?

0925 - internet relationships and gaming, other people-ing

I'm supposed to be writing a paper on how online gaming impacts friendships. Not a great re-wording of the original poorly-worded prompt. I'd like to be able to differentiate between how relationships (in the most general sense) offline differ from those online, as well as how---if at all---relationships formed by online gaming differ further. Unfortunately, I have a very limited amount of room (2-3pg) and am the worst person to talk about friendships.

'Niche' online communities provide people who share the same interests with a place to communicate. This shared interest can be a starting point for a relationship. It's something to connect over. However, a starting point is only a starting point. You share interests with someone without crossing the point of 'casual acquaintance' to 'friend or other intimate relationship.'

What else comes to mind? Say, interactions in a forum vs. interactions in a discord server. Both of these are places where you can keep seeing the same people over and over again _without_ directly talking to them. There is a major difference between forums & discords (at least with the ones I've been in), though I'm struggling to put my finger on what that is. I'm thinking of when the Dragon Mania Legends official forum closed in favor of an official discord server. The forum had a sense of community and space for conversation that disappeared the moment it switched to being a discord server.

Part of this could be due to conventions. It was much easier (and natural) to use a searchbar in a forum for an answer to a question than it is to use the search in a discord. The forum had clear changes in topic; literally just click on a different thread. Some would derail, as is natural, but still being relatively organized. Discord lacks that sense of organization. No amount of channels / folders / etc. categories and attempts to organize the conversation can succeed. The fast pace of a server sure doesn't help. There are familiar names, but they never feel as familiar. Cannot argue this point about difference in community properly. Aaarrrgghh.

Communicating in the context of an online game increases points of contact. You are talking to someone about a task that both of you are doing (presumably, and in the context of a multiplayer game. Too many possible contexts!). This may make it more likely for people to feel a sense of kinship? May provide more of a jumping point for a relationship?

Of course, one also has to choose to cross that line. Shift the conversation, share more information? (This is a struggle for me. Defining it (and doing so.))

0926 - obligatory hand rant

fuck. my. hands.

I make what changes I can: directly effect (ergonomics, stretching, strengthening, resting, ice packs), indirectly effect (dietary, though if those have had an impact on my hands it is unnoticable, and trying to manage stress should help, as should sleep, right?). Instead they continue to fuck me over no matter what. Studying continues to be relegated to walking myself through problems verbally, remembering how to do the math without putting pencil to paper and doing practice problems. Explaining to myself works well enough but it is no substitute for practice. Getting homework done is enough of a struggle, so is getting through class, so is so is so is.....

This is all hoping that some doctor will take me seriously. Though fibromyalgia should prevent that from happening; that is, my entire body hurts, so it's only natural that something is interfering with my life more. Except my physical activity has increased recently, suddenly, without any increase in pain in my legs/feet/etc? (only some soreness, four flights of stairs will do that to you).

I rotate my wrist and joints crack. It's disturbing. It didn't used to be this way. Though I'm not sure how much worse it's gotten over time. Maybe my tolerance has decreased. Which is always my worry with chronic pain; that is, my tolerance for the normal aches and pains of life is so low that I can't handle the normal amount of pain that everybody else experiences on a daily basis. People can tell me that being in constant pain isn't normal as much as they please. I can't imagine a life without it. Naproxen sometimes takes the edge off, if I'm lucky, but that's a few hours of decreased stabbing pains (and brings aching down to ignorable levels).

I just can't shake the feeling that I'm over-reacting to a very normal problem.

0927 - people

I know I'm putting too much hope onto one person. But I wrote and they wrote back and I wrote back and now silence. Hopefully they're busy and not ghosting me. Hopefully hopefully hopefully.

Talking to people gives me something outside myself. Everywhere else, I only need to think about myself. Having moments where doing so isn't the option is nice.

I guess I do want to talk to people. Or something. aaarrgghghghg.

> and so you keep emailing strangers
> going to online groups
> getting your hopes up
> and avoiding everyone in real life
> great going. keep it up.

To be fair. Clubs aren't meeting at times that I'm on campus. Most student events are in the evenings, and I can't ask my parents to pick me up that late. And...everybody who sits near me in class is already talking to each other.

> not all of them.
> yOU are making excuses

...or they're on their phones. Or are clearly otherwise occupied. Or or or.

> not that you'd know how to converse anyhow.

Yeah yeah yeah. Rub it in, why dontcha.

Here's another minor detail that keeps bothering me. Why are guys the only people who respond to my emails? Or even email me in the first place? There have been four people I've emailed back and forth with (to varying degrees; three out of four ghosted after like. 2-3 emails). All of 'em were guys. The people I've tried to email who never even respond in the first place are gals. This is terrible.

Can't help but wonder if the format of this website has contributed to who finds me here and emails. Is it too: easy to read, navigate, mobile-friendly, image free, audio free, clutter free, glitter free, gif free, name / age / pronoun / sexuality / gender / content warning / userbox-free, not even modifying the cursor, adding animations, . . . ? I jest, I jest. I and I alone shall appreciate my visual clarity.

daydream

am

factorials

I'm exhausted. Not in a way that can be fixed by a good night's sleep (whatever the hell that is). "Oh, that one's your fibromyalgia," says the internet, but why am I supposed to take that as the explanation. For anything. "Congrats, thou whilst always be fatigued and in pain and and and other symptoms. BTW, that antidepressant you were on helps some people WHY DID U STOP YOU DOCTOR-IGNORING FOOL." Not to mention that movement-delays keep applying to everything, not just one hand, so it probably isn't something to worry about. I mean. The other common med for fibro is an anti-seizure med. I don't want more meds. With every single med I've been on (birth control, antidepressant, taking painkillers on a regular basis), I've felt better off than on. Taking painkillers (in that case, acetaminophen) on a twice a day basis didn't even make a difference. Other than creating GI issues that resolved soon after I stopped. Goddamnit. I just want something to take the edge off. Make existing a little easier so I can ignore this idiotic flesh vessel and get on with life.

I think that sitting here and saying that a lack of bread/gluten intake significantly reduced paranoia would make me sound like a conspiracy theorist. But I no longer wake up to people watching me sleep, or hide from things that aren't there, or avoid nail polish because it contains government tracking devices, or talk to Mara, or other things that sound wrong when I write them out. The things I've described as are/not true aren't a part of my life anymore. At least I can hold onto that as evidence that things can get better.

Weird to not have the tick-tock of email response going in the background. It's as if I'm back to being the only person in my life again. I don't have someone to try and maintain a conversation with, or to contemplate what's been said and what could be said. Though I'm shit at it either way. Probably for the best that nobody responds to my emails, or attempts at conversation, or or or. They're all just saving their time and energy for better things.

I've been spending more time daydreaming recently. Too much time in an imaginary world isn't good for me, I know, but I like going to the imaginary place where I've had a hysterectomy and the rare pains I do have can be solved with a handful of ibuprofen.

It's some distant future where I'm done with college, but not really. I teach math at a nearby college. Alongside a bit of writing, where I'm not a professional but am a bit more polished than unpaid lit mags and self-pubs. It's an eclectic bit of work, but it's enough to get by. I've got a small house in the woods near a town where most everything is walking/biking distance (and yes, in that world I have learned to bike). We have chickens.

Yes, I said we, as I live with some guy. Er, a good friend? He's a plumber and an excellent cook. He plays euphonium in a community concert band, and is a bit of a hobbyist composer. He drags me to go fishing, sometimes, and I make up for being a shitty fishing companion by preparing them for dinner. He has some friends he goes hunting with, from time to time, which has left me with a taxidermy hobby. It took a hot moment for me to get used to dealing with dead animals.

Most of the house has been done up in blackboard paint. It was an improvement over each of our sticky-note wall massacres. It's a house covered in ideas and quotes and projects and reminders and misc. thoughtforms. Occasionally we work on creative projects together, but it's mostly bouncing ideas off of each other. And borrowing each others' library books. Sometimes he'll take the book I'm reading and leave me to grab a digital copy. Our exact reading habits are a bit mis-matched---he has a clear fondness for historical fiction, as well as architecture---but there's enough overlap here and there. 0929

It's funny, the way I say that I hate being me but don't even know who me is. Any attempt to understand myself is filtered through something; life projected onto various characters, fanfictional and original, or trying to find myself in media. Trying to say that this is me, but it's like two puzzle pieces that can be brute-forced together, might even look right, but don't actually fit.

I feel so empty. Evidently I'm not, mind you, because if I were I wouldn't be struggling. If I were empty I wouldn't have started college in liberal arts, or transferred, twice, or made other impractical choices. I'd be able to see the logical choice and stick to it. There wouldn't be feelings, certainly not ones that I needed to try and figure out. I'm like some vague, undefined blob, that substance that exists but only barely. That form isn't suitable for reality.

People are better off without me. I'm not better off without them, but all I do is create more problems, and people who are are more important. This is why people don't respond to my attempts to talk. The vast majority of them can look at me, realize that I can't offer anything meaningful to them, and won't respond in the first place. They know better. Younger me cared more for fantasy than reality, developed no ability to talk to others or be human, leaving current me to deal with the consequences that I fail to accept. I don't want to accept the consequences. I don't want to be a hermit. But that would be for the better, wouldn't it.

Per what I wrote about value, one could conclude that still being alive means I value being alive. But I sure don't show it. I don't know what being human means, but this ain't it.

If I take myself from the perspective of a writer, I am a very flat character. Developments are incidental, near nonexistent. Events that should develop the character fail to do so. The character rarely reacts and shows an exceedingly limited number emotions. The character's hobbies and abilities are undeveloped and stagnant. It is prone to complaining about bodily pains. It is a leech who needs to be sacrificed to create a better story. It is a character whose nonexistence means it deserves death.

0928 - school, health, daydreaming

This is it.

I have finally gone off the rails.

> what the hell do you mean
> you have literally done nothing
> ever

I called the prompt for the 'gaming & friendship' writing assignment ignorant. In my revision plan. It's. I literally turned this in to the professor. I never criticize teachers! Especially not to their faces! ...I am being graded on this. Oh dear. But I stand by what I said and will use my paper to show it. The whole 'does online gaming promote positive or negative social ties' question is simplistic. Online gaming allows people to interact with each other in a variety of ways. I seem to be saying that people will interact with each other without forming friendships or enemies. It's another place where people interact. That is all.

0929 - choice & value

I keep finding myself thinking about how choice implies value. For example: by choosing 'writing an essay' over 'reading,' I am saying that writing about relationships formed by games is more important to me than reading about nutrition. And if I were to choose what to read right now, I may be saying that re-reading parts from a book that I like is more important to me than increasing my understanding of a topic. Or I may be choosing entertainment over information. Choosing 'essay due Sunday' over 'math hw due Sunday' implies that the essay is more important, more time-consuming, more necessary than math homework; or saying that the math homework is easy to understand, less time consuming, something I have to dedicate less thought to. (Which is not accurate; it is procrastination).

Which is how I started writing about friendship as a choice. Is it a choice? Or is it just a thing that gradually happens? I don't mean that rhetorically. Though I'm not sure I even understand what friendship is.

> wow, way to single yourself out
> really blending in with the humans there
> idiot

Thanks, brain <3 you always know how to cheer me up.

However, I keep framing 'I choose E' as 'I choose E over P.' Is this an accurate depiction? Choosing E means choosing E over P, or does it only mean choosing E. Going in circles. One may be choosing E without actually having a choice between E and P. Or one may determine a different option; that is, choosing neither E nor P. Rejecting the question altogether.

Choosing from J = {e, p} is not choosing from K = {a, b, c}. (Yes, I am starting to think of this in terms of disjoint sets. We've partitioned the universe into the options we are choosing between and the options that are not being considered). Set K has already been rejected; deemed irrelevant, unimportant as we are only choosing from the elements of set J.

> none of this is useful!

Yeah, but I'm having fun.

I'll reword this, but keep the above as. Context. So, our sets:

A = {set of options that are being chosen between | A is a subset of B}
B = {set of possible options}
B^C = {literally everything else}

Using the todo list example:

A = {review discrete, english essay}
B = {computing hw, discrete hw, linear hw, review linear, review discrete, english essay}
B^C = {reading, walking, talking to people, eating, writing, working on a visual novel, processing notebook, doodling}

Though in that writing, the universe is of all possible options that are in line with my typical behaviors. If I rewrote that where the complement of B is set C, thus A is a subset of B is a subset of C, C^C would be all atypical behaviors.

This is a very long-winded way of saying that (running with the todo list example), I am explicitly choosing working on an essay over reviewing for discrete, semi-explicitly choosing the essay over set B, implicitly choosing that over B^C, or (running with set C and saying that I am also implicitly choosing that over C^C). Something does not feel right about this logic. Because I'm using this to assign value; that is, choosing an element of A means valuing it over A^C. I am going in circles that mean nothing; someone please tell me where I'm wrong.

0930 - bs

Found this in an old notebook: log_∞x = 2. I'll take utter nonsense for 500.

October

1016 - 1019

1001 - 1008

1001 - reading

Well. October. Spent most of yesterday procrastinating by bullet journaling and watching Rachael Stephen's old bujo videos & vlogs. Paying for the consequences of that by finally turning the essay in (it's due today), getting a few more discrete questions done (...I really need to go to math tutoring), and ignoring the programming assignment. And linear algebra, but that's not due for another week. A-okay there.

Spent a bit of yesterday thinking about books I read recently that I enjoyed and what it was about them. List looked something like this:

Episode Thirteen - Craig DiLouie - labyrinths, darkness, the void, everything/nothing, losing grasp on reality
Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes - Eric LaRocca - umm. Unhealthy relationships between women? Fluids (May Leitz) would also go here.
Tampa - Alyssa Nutting - solid 10/10 terrible woman. Manipulative. Awful. Delicious.
Sex, Lies, and Pharmaceuticals - Ray Moynihan & Barbara Mintzes - pharmaceutical industry woes. Though I think there's a limit to how much I can read about those in a month.

Mmk. Two of those fall under 'salivating over women.' Also: looking at people and saying 'I could make her worse.' Finding alikes, of various quality, is doable. Episode 13 goes hand in hand with bits of House of Leaves, and also with reversing atrophy. But when I try to go looking for those alikes, I either end up with house horror, unreliable narrators, and unconventionally formatted fiction. Which aren't what I'm looking for (except for unreliable narrators, who I will always love). 'Losing grasp on reality' is a very particular lost grasp that I've written a bit before (in fic & fanfic). Still can't put my finger on it. Or I have and I'm overthinking it. That feeling when everything comes together and you understand the universe and have rejected its relevance. Everything is real and nothing is but it's perfect, because everything has slipped into place and even you are irrelevant. A certain beauty in insignificance. Though I may just be pulling shit out of thin air anyways.

Funny how I'm as disinterested in math classes as I was english classes. At least math is directly applicable, and what you can do with it isn't as inclined to pulling things out of thin air.

Getting back into writing hasn't been right. I don't care. Sure, I'm getting thoughts out of my head, discarding imaginary conversations onto a random document, but. Aarrgghh. I thought that was what I wanted to do. Writing more doesn't feel like a chore, though. Color me confused. I made some small collages yesterday, and that was as boring as writing was. But making collages on a regular basis isn't something I've done before. Gonna channel creative energy into that this week and see where it takes me. Not where it takes me---how I feel? Goddamnit, I just want to enjoy something.

Also clicked that the cold has been affecting my wrists. Of course they feel worse. Of course my body is feeling more numb and sluggish. Of course of course of course. I wear a mix of sweaters and sweatshirts and long-sleeves when the rest of my family just throws on a long-sleeve shirt and sweater (if it's really cold) and calls it a day.

1002 - self

> don't get your hopes up

Too late! Hopes are way way up!

Wish I remember the exact contents of the conversation I overheard earlier. Something about drunk sheet music being better than regular sheet music. Eh, I prefer my notes to stay the same, thankyouuvery much.

> you are still an idiot who while fail

Well, I have an ego to maintain. Why ask for help or get the answers I need to do well in a class (or anything else) when I can just bumble through, repeat stupid mistakes, try not to repeat mistakes, understand absolutely nothing, fuck it up, fuck it all up, and hate myself even more?!

But sitting here and rereading and ruminating doesn't change who I am or who I've been.

It's hard to sit here and not take an aggressive view against myself. All "you fucked up, you idiot cunt. Never open your mouth again." But that's not quite right; it's harmful and unproductive. The more balanced view might be, "You didn't know better. But your actions still have consequences."

(We aren't independent of our contexts!)

There's work to be done.

Fuck me if I know what it is and how to do it. From Snicket:

in every library there is a single book that can answer the question that burns like a fire in the mind.

and where is that book? Surely, the answer must be written somewhere? Some guidance, something that doesn't leave me floundering, an instruction manual or user's guide or...hah, just ran into a quote from A Short Stay in Hell (Steven Peck) that seems fitting:

Lastly, you are here to learn something. Don’t try to figure out what it is. This can be frustrating and unproductive.

mmmk.

1003 - ?

Why.

Why why why.

This isn't healthy. That should bother me. It doesn't seem to. I don't, yet very much do, want to know what happens next. Hopefully nothing; as in no response whatsoever. (yes, I want the easy way out, who wouldn't, though anyone with a basic ability to converse, aka most everyone, wouldn't find themself here in the first place). But I---? I don't know what it is, but I do know that it isn't nothing. I wouldn't be here if it were.

More issues. Wrapped up some shitty code, should've done that two days ago. Took care of a discussion board. Never finished, last week's discrete incomplete. And the code is genuine shit. I refuse to ask the professor to clarify the assignment, so will earn an inevitable F. Which is what everything I turn in would earn, mind you, if grades were based on understanding.

Self-deprecation aside, I do think that I would be a solid C student if genuine academic rigor was the norm. The bare minimum should not be worth an A. Yet turning something in and paying attention in class is deemed an achievement. How people struggle to actually do the bare minimum is beyond me. Sometimes I think that there are people who shouldn't be in college. They aren't ready, or aren't willing to make the time. Or or or.

1004 - mmm

I don't know. I don't want to mess up, and I. I shouldn't be the one feeling vulnerable right now. Yesterday (Marianas Trench) comes to mind:

I'm just so good at fucking up
But I'm fixing to change my luck
Turns out enough's enough

I'm struggling to put myself into words right now. It's all too - all very - aaarrrgghh. Trying not to devolve into self-deprecation over having emotions. This---how I do this---needs to change; I don't know how but I do want to find out.

1007 - talking, school

ahahahahaaa. Feeling energetic about someone is weird. I know the energy will calm down, stabilize?, at some point. Worried that I'm here feeling all jittery and giddy because I've never spoken to someone in this manner, that is: opening up to someone, sharing, before. Consequences of my asocial life.

What else have I done this week? Dried some leaves, which are a nice little bit of decor. And picked some plants. Cattails? Something like that. Love the texture. De-sapped some pinecones (soaked in 1:1 water:white vinegar for 30 min + 3 days, baked at 200F for 30min) for a little more nature.

Allllso said fuck it and turned in the computing assignment knowing full well that it (probably) doesn't satisfy criteria. In a "I'll be happy with a 50 way." Thankfully, the professor has decided we are allowed resubmissions for this one! He found out / realized, a bit too late, that the assignment may have been more difficult to understand than he had intended. Admittedly, I'd spent enough time on it to dread the idea of reworking it, but. I'll learn and improve (my code & grades).

Discrete exam didn't go as poorly as I thought it might. 4.5/6 problems were on sets; only the last 1.5 were combinatorics. Hallelujah. Will still spend more time on them, as my difficulties are embarrassing (I'm a math major, I should know this!). But at least my grade doesn't hinge on remembering how many ways there are to choose n and m objects from sets x and y in z order.

Realizing that I do now need to be good at math. Not that I've been bad at math in the past, but it's verrrrryyy different from English, where you can be making shit up on the spot and get an A as long as you can defend your argument enough. There are no 'wrong' answers (though, in some ways, there really are). Math ain't flexible like that. Can't asspull matrix multiplication (killme). Also: never using a calculator is so odd. High school math had us on graphing calculators for precalc/calc and stats. Yet now, I don't even need a four function calculator. It helps that my professors accept non-simplified answers (thank you for not making me simplify ^16!/_(11!5!)). Bad use of sup and sub.

1008 - life, college

Okay. Week in review. Things I'd said I would do that I did not: collages. Had also grabbed a book from the library on knitting, intent on pulling myself back into a hobby I'd taken up in 5th grade, but. Refrained from knitting. I miss my scarf. The yarn was a light blue / dark blue blend, exceedingly fluffy, infinity loop, but I stopped trusting myself to keep it around at some point last year. Ehehehe.

For better, not for worse, I've been dragged into spending less time daydreaming this week. Talking to people is weird! But in a good way. I think, at some point, I'd almost forgotten that I was allowed to talk to others? Could be that the mix of never talking to people enough & too much self deprecation (you waste of space, you) had consequences. Including, but not limited to: loneliness.

Fuck, I'm distracted, and feel like I should be doing something else. Trying not to think about the essay on culture shock I need to start doing research for. The professor is only requiring 2-3pg, again, which feels lazy. Really, the entire assignment feels lazy. Take the paper we read, find a paper addressing the same theory, compare/analyze the two. Doesn't feel like a real class. In a bad way. That might as well be a discussion board post. The media studies class I'd taken first semester averaged at some five page papers, with my final coming in at twelve(?) pages, though I'd turned it into a visual novel to get away with the length. Now that required engaging with the text, even if some people would ass-pull arguments. Was so used to that length that so few pages feels...childish. Like I'm back in high school, not in a college class I'm paying for. And it being online means it costs extra.

Need to think about course selection already. This'll be the first time I stay in a college long enough to do so. Technically, this is my second semester here, but summer classes barely count. Ha, just all my transferring makes the thought of not transferring seem odd. Future college kids: don't be me. Don't go to a tiny-ass liberal arts college, don't transfer twice, don't drop out mid term, aaaannnd don't be a liberal arts major.

> attacks u

Hmmph. Real lite update this week. What can I say, I've been a bit occupied. Not sure how much more I'll read this week---literally keeping the to-read to the books I didn't finish this week: Brother (Ania Ahlborn), How to talk about books you haven't read (which I started last Sunday, good grief), Meno (also started last weekend), and mayyybe Let's Go Play at the Adams. Can't go back now that I've written it down, right?

I've been thinking of revisiting Euclid's Elements. Ditched my notes when that class was done, so I'd be starting from just above scratch, but revisiting the systematic style of proofs may be worthwhile, as my classes are entering proof territory more often. Not to mention that the copy I have, Heath's translation, worked in a few academic insults that my professor had pointed out. Would like to know what else I missed.

1011 - misc.

I'm flailing and flailing and flailing. Good grief. Downhill - Lincoln has been on repeat, right next to Yesterday - Marianas Trench. Former, then latter:

'Cause I was born into the world on a silken cloud
And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground. (...)
I went downhill at such steep incline
That the rearview mirror showed me only the sky

So yeah, my timing sucks
I'm just so good at fucking up
But I'm fixing to change my luck
Turns out enough's enough

Hahaha, how many times must I quote Marianas Trench? Might as well pull out the other one (from All to Myself):

I don't patronize, I realize / I'm losing and this is my real life / I'm half asleep and I am wide awake / This habit is always to hard to break.

HEY MAN ISN'T IT POETIC THAT THE SKY IS WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND hahaha word association school: got a 96 on the discrete structures exam! Sure, it was graded on a 5-point curve, but still. The average was mid-70s. Highest was a 104. Mwahaha, maybe I can do math. Doesn't excuse me from not quite getting combinatorics, but. I'm not as bad as I thought. I keep thinking that I may end up teaching? Long term, very long term, as I'm pretty sure I'd need a PhD to be a professor. Can I imagine spending another N years studying math, venturing into research, only to be in school from the other end? ...it doesn't sound all that bad. (ignores general state of higher education.) aaaaand I'm sure I'd say something else entirely in the next month, because I'm an indecisive bitch who doesn't give much thought to her future!

> we're WORKING ON THAT

...you might be right. Taha, haha, haha.

What else do I do with my life. Try to socialize? Complain about my hands i can't keep doing this.

1015 - morning

I don't know.

I reread things I've written, and then what another has written, or try (fail), because there's too much regardless and I can't handle more than the bare minimum. At least my bare minimum means getting schoolwork done. It's ingrained. No matter what, I turn something in. How much I complete has been a tad bit inconsistent recently, but even then my average ?s right (complete) sits at 90+%.

What'd it take for me to slip?

What'd it take for me to turn in nothing?

Even in February, right up until (((---was I, can't even remember, maybe that poem was the last. A discussion board? The essay? Can't recall. Doesn't matter. That's what it would take, I suppose I've already lived through an answer to my own question.

I need to stop zoning out. I'd be less busy if I stopped zoning out. I'd have a better grip on (everything) if I just stopped. zoning. out. Doesn't matter what I'm doing, I'll blink and zone out because---prioritizing not existing above all else?

Fucking foreshadowing, amiright?

because I can't see talking to other people as anything other than getting better at being able to talk to a particular person, which is shit, and everything cements the idea that other people are better off without me. Well, talk to others and socialize and you'll be a better person—and then what? I won't "be happy" or "live a better life" or "be less miserable" or or orrrr. I don't even feel like I can be myself around the rare person I talk to. The even rarer instance of that being possible—just that one teacher? Is that really all? Everybody is temporary. Bleed 'em dry and go, cut out the first half of that because it's utter shit, and then just never talk to people. Circles and circles and maybe I'm done.

> yet you're still ranting to the internet
> what are you doing here?
I'm an entertainer. Wind her up, watch her go. It's okay. You can laugh at me. You can mock me. Just don't fucking pity me. I've done nothing to earn it.

Trying to make sure I exist. This website does that. It's documentation. I was here, I'm still here, I do some things and think some things and experience some things. It's not enough, no solid ground, but it is something to hold on to.

Later. Did turn in the essay. Worked on the scarf; it's fun to reach the end of a ball of yarn. My mom had two balls of this mixed gray/white yarn that looked like they'd be enough for a scarf, the needles sounded like they'd be the right size, and two videos later I've gotten a hang of it. Maybe I'll finish it this week. That's something, right? I'll use it on a regular basis, so it has to be something.

Good ol "I don't want to live but I'm too scared to die" comes to mind. Is that my problem? I'm alive, evidently not committed to being alive, but I'm sure not dead either. Can't commit either way. To anything. Naturally, the solution to this is to change. Do something different, actually different, for once in your godforsaken life.

All I can think about is going on a walk and not coming back. Perhaps throwing my belongings off the bridge I cross twice on school days, and then walking off. Where'd I go, what'd I do, how'd I get by—doesn't matter. Something like that would change me, right? It'd do something, right? ...right? No. Ignore it. I need to get through college. What comes next it does not matter. Don't think; you'll spiral further and remember that you have no future. Keep your head down, don't contemplate yourself, and don't fuck this up. You won't transfer again, and don't you dare let yourself drop out again. Yep. Just keep completing semesters. That's all there is to it.

Footnote: why can't gen eds be useful? My writing class has been such a waste of time. I'm getting nothing out of it. My ability to research or write ain't improving. The professor's feedback is just checking off a rubric. I'm forking over money for a few credits and that's all. Quite disappointing. People point out that STEM majors need to learn how to write/communicate effectively & that's why we need gen eds. Then the gen eds are so watered down that you either can do the work with an A or understand so little and scrape by due to the professor being too worn out to care. I'm not competent at writing essays. What have I done to earn an A?—nothing. I've earned a C, but standards are too low to let that happen, so I get meaningless As instead. They've always been meaningless, as classes are rarely a challenge, but it feels worse when tuition is involved.

What am I doing. I feel fine rambling here because people could be reading this, but it doesn't feel like anyone is. (and if you've just stumbled on this site and read every entry: what are you doing with your life? There are better ways to spend your time, beloved reader. Please have a life). Getting myself to update my site on a regular basis provides me with some sense of stability(?) (structure?). It's a thing that I can choose to do on a regular basis. I guess it is a hobby of mine.

Thinking about some things I've done in the past few weeks. Regret isn't the right word. Moreso: why, that wasn't like me, what was I doing, why did I do that, bothered by (???who???), feeling misled, used, exhausted, frustrated (by ??? myself, or others?). I'm. This is why I keep to myself. I am a parasitic shell of a person. Always have been. I've been tired of life for as long as I've lived it. There has never been a point. Something improves—and then what? Nothing will ever be enough, so I claim to be content with my non-existence. Genuine change would be long-lasting, not temporary, which is why I'll never be able to say I've changed.

And it's always my mood, isn't it, getting too attached/dependent/tied to something, so there are higher positives, but that's not enough, so alone with majority negatives, no positive to tide me over, nothing to look forward to. Had written elsewhere, and deleted, that other people are what make life worth living. Dependent shit. I'm not a person. Undependable (others need too much, I need so little—can't I eradicate that, or keep diminishing it? Never works. Nothing does. I need a new approach, but I can't find it, though if I could I couldn't commit to it. Recalling (from House of Leaves):

Back here again. These pages are a mess. Stuck together with honey from all my tea making. Stuck together with blood. No idea what to make of those last few entries either. What’s the difference, especially in differance, what’s read what’s left in what’s left out what’s invented what’s remembered what’s forgotten what’s written what’s found what’s lost what’s done?

What’s not done?

What’s the difference?

Had to look up that one. Johnny wrote it on 31 October, even, and don't blame me for recalling an appropriate quote.

I do so little that there's nothing to remember.

what I'm mostly bothered by is how hard it's been for me to find people talking about nutrition without discussing weight. What about thinking about the other impacts food might have on the body? The information there feels scarcer. Maybe the scarceness is due to what I'm looking for: non-anecdotal evidence on how diet may impact fibromyalgia. Something that doesn't fetishize plants. Or maybe I'm looking for...oh, fuck it, I just want a magic pill. Something like "eat .5oz of beef a day and your problems will disappear!" (can mozzarella balls please be the answer...or feta...or ricotta...alas, they are not).

I don't enjoy things. At best, I find some sense of comfort, a brief bit of satisfaction, but no genuine enjoyment. All of it is fleeting. Always has been. Thinking of playing instruments. I kept playing out of habit, familiarity; practiced over summers to be better than my classmates; dropped it when I lost the structure. Or reason. Music groups benefited from my ability to play. Now I have none. Arranging/composing for similar reasons. Reading? Fleeting positive reactions. Maintained due to perceived benefits: non-damaging way to waste time, more information/perspectives, more thinking. And habit. So much is due to habit. (Ffs, I'm doing Nano out of habit!) Those and school seem to have always been the things that keep me going.

Circles and circles. What's the point in writing this? Maybe I'm drawing erroneous conclusions and scrambling for evidence. Or maybe I have spent more of my life depressed than not. The doctors sure seem to say so. At least the anxiety has declined. Less "I'm worried about the outcome of doing X" and more "I don't see a point in doing X." (can't find a point in...? or just not inclined...?). Why is this where my mind always goes.

Replaying Alter Ego. Maybe Es is right, and I am so caught up in despair that I'm twisting reality. What, using a personality test in a phone game to understand myself? Despair doesn't sound right. The word is dramatic. Has meaning. To lose hope, you have to have had hope, and I'm not sure I ever did. Though I must have had some to have stuck around for this long, or maybe I've got the order all wrong and I've stuck around because I don't care enough to off myself. I don't value life enough to deliberately reject it.

1016 - matrices are cool
1019 - universal oneness, personal ramblings: Something about any "beneath everything, we are all the same" keeps bothering me. This is, in part, related to Oberg's use of this in cultural shock, which drew on Kurikka's ideas quite clearly. Oberg seems to think that all people are equally capable of coping with culture shock (bar that select few who aren't). The "all people are equal" is directly related to (underlying human nature? human oneness?); a reapplication of the same idea. Yet it is proven false. Dutton's paper points out that people are not equally capable of adjustment because one's personal contexts influence one's ability to deal with culture shock.

Knowledge of the new culture's language. Say: different dialect of the native language vs was raised to speak new language (bilingual household) vs learned new language vs didn't. These could play a part in culture shock. As could knowledge of the culture. Lived experience? Could someone become used to culture shock if they regularly lived in different cultures? ...I don't care enough to find out.

Yes, we're all human, but that really is where the similarities end. Some amount of innate differences & some amount of 'learned' (not quite right word, think nature vs nurture) result in personal contexts. Personal contexts are what differentiate people from each other, hence why people have different abilities to deal with culture shock (and, y'know, everything else).

Dutton, Edward (2011). "The significance of British Columbia to the origins of the concept of 'culture shock.'" BC Studies, 171, 111-129.
Oberg, Kalervo (1960). "Excerpt from Cultural Shock: Adjustment to New Cultural Environments."; Started another book on Heraclitus. Don't think I'll finish it. He feels like baby's first philosopher: sounds nice, but ultimately lacks substance. Take this (fragment determined via RNG):
91: “Since mindfulness, of all things,
is the ground of being,
to speak one’s true mind,
and to keep things known
in common, serves all being,
just as laws made clear
uphold the city,
yet with greater strength.
Of all pronouncements of the law
the one source is the Word
whereby we choose what helps
true mindfulness prevail.”
...not the most meaningless. I know it's fragments, not his work proper, so the "he already talked about this" is irrelevant. And he is applying the use your brains, bitches! to government. Okay okay. What is he saying here? Being aware of one's existence (how you exist) is part of existing. Conversing about this is useful for all. Develops our frameworks, how others think. Laws do the same; another kind of guiding principle that benefits people. Yes, and?

I'm expecting too much. Started reading The Cartoon Introduction to Philosophy; Heraclitus was the first mentioned, saying "change is the only constant." That's my kind of guy. But not really. Everything changes, and you're still the same. Modifications, adjustments, attunements, but not. proper. change. You keep moping in circles, and maybe your habits change, maybe your circumstances change, maybe your lifestyle changes, maybe you've got a new hobby or you've met a new person or—it's all the same. You're still the same person. You don't change.

1020 - 1031

1020 - currently reading

The short list of books that I am technically in the middle of, but am not in the mood to read at this exact moment, in (rough) order of least to most recent:

Good Calories, Bad Calories - Gary Taubes
Meno - Plato - ...he's a lil' bit annoying.
How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read - Pierre Bayard
Rouge - Mona Awad - I started this one before Bunny, lol.
Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man - Bill Clegg
The Cartoon Introduction to Philosophy
Naive Set Theory - Paul Halmos
Transubstantiate - Richard Thomas
I'm a Fan - Sheena Patel - I'm close to dropping it. The narrator is obnoxious, and the premise doesn't seem to be well implemented. Gradually let me realize that she's being weird, don't just tell me everything right away.
The Handyman - Bentley Little - was close to dropping, but the flashback finally wrapped up.
The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman (reread)

Too many. Worse if you include the other long fanfics that I'm in the middle of. The only schoolwork I have for the weekend amounts to a few hours of linear algebra. Let's see how many of these can get into the booklog before I update.

1026 - a constant state of ohio (lincoln), personal issues

The music video for Saint Bernard feels like someone took a dream and turned it into a video. It starts out relatively normal. The dog and bat feel detached from their surroundings, as if they're not actually there. The white outlines emphasize their out-of-place-ness. Aaand the last twenty seconds of the video are perfect for a dream sequence. Everything we've seen is abandoned. Sideways. Pixels turn into some man whose eyes are too present, and then melts into pixel chaos.

Smokey Eyes has a nice opening. The instrumentals almost sound cluttered, but appropriately so. The verses feel disconnected from the chorus. Verse one and two feel like they're about a specific someone or something. The chorus starts out with, "So help me make amends with all my friends," which feels out of place. Going back and forth between two ideas. The bridge is lovely. The transition to piano and . . . flow-y? vocals doesn't feel out of place. Either the lyrics aren't about anything, or I'm not getting it.

Banks:

I don't think that I
Would exactly call it love
But it's dripping down my consciousness
As you're slipping down my lungs

that last line is so specific and . . . visceral? I can't put my finger on it. The lyrics feel like a mish-mash of ideas and feelings about someone the artist used to know:

I wanna see you be brave
I wanna see you surviving
I wanna see both of us
Prospering and thriving
separately

Downhill has a nice build up / evolution of instrumentals. Contrast the chorus the first and second time it appears. The first time is nice, pleasant, soft guitar against the vocals. The second time is more aggressive. Not the right word. Loud, noisy (instrumentals take up more space).

1028 - alter ego, chronic pain

Quotes are from the game Alter Ego.

"I'm not mad. It's the world."
"This world is me and I am the world."
"Others are just the sums of my dreams."

Rejecting the world can bring one a sense of power. Determine the world has errors; errors are not your fault; reject them and say it's all a dream. You can't reconcile your existence with reality. You deny reality altogether. Denying reality denies the existence of others. You alone are in control of how you exist; you still choose not to.

Giving oneself this sense of control is powerful. Akin to seeing clearly for the first time. Hit by a sudden wave of clarity, you realize how stupid and foolish it is to be human. Others are a farce who waste time. Not you. You're better than these figments of reality. You don't need people. You're capable of doing everything because everything you perceive is a lie. You've found the truth. You go on, separate yourself from the foolish others, and drown in your misery. You've rejected helplessness, claimed control, and at what cost? You can't return to the way things used to be, not in this state, even as you find yourself wishing you could return to a moment when you didn't know the truth.

I've replayed Alter Ego several times in the past few years. Unless I make choices with the ending in mind, I tend to make the choices that bring me to the Id ending, where her thoughts are like above.

Guess you won't improve.
You're just a delusion.
Pathetic creature.

Right on the money, Es. Right. on. the. money.

It's no way to exist, yet tempting either way.

Chronic pain is a constant drain on my energy. Whether or not it causes or contributes to (or both) chronic fatigue is beyond me. Coffee isn't the answer. My sleep has enough problems as is. And more energy doesn't mean more usable energy, not like it used to, because how much I can do before there's too much pain still varies in its own way.

My limited energy gets split between school and myself. I can't consistently take care of either of these to my standards. How much of this is being literally unable, and how much of this is making excuses? My grades are A-okay; I'm above the average in computing, and have As everywhere else. Work is turned in on (and often ahead) of time. I say I should study more, but that feels ignorant of how much studying I do while working on homework. Doing homework means explaining the problems to myself and walking myself through them until I can do them without much effort. I could do more to review old material, and I could do more problems that I struggle with. But material builds on itself enough that old material is ingrained because I'm still using the old material...hmm.

How about the energy I spend on myself. Saying "I don't do enough" starts to sound like I'm criticizing myself for not being perfect. I exercise throughout the day; I'd guess I do .5-1hr of yoga a day. Physical therapy exercises are another 20 minutes, 3-4x a week. I don't track my steps, but I know that I walk for a few hours on school days. Cold weather means replacing my walks with the exercise bike, so I do that for another however many minutes a day. Writing this out feels like I'm exaggerating. But I can think through how I spend my time and it is accurate. Other energy I spend on myself...reading. Gaming counts to some extent. Creative hobbies: I made quite a few collages this week, I doodle on a daily basis, I'll be doing Nano, this website is a hobby, I'd like to knit more in the future.

Hobbies are nice because they can fluctuate. I work on something depending on how much energy I have and where I feel like I want to spend it. I don't need to commit; I can engage in a low/medium/high effort way whenever I feel like it. They help me get by, much as I may loathe to admit it.

I'm aware that the one thing missing from my life is other people. But I don't consistently have the energy to interact with others. Not to mention that others take up as much time/energy as school does, and you can't reallocate the time you spend on other people the way you can school. I've been spending more time on forums, mostly Nano, and it feels like that's all I am consistently capable of doing. Genuine interactions require too much energy/effort, so low-stakes casual half-conversation is all I can handle.

I get ahead on good days so that bad days don't interfere with my life as much. Then I beat myself up for having bad days. They make me inconsistent. Am I shifting the blame, or just acknowledging the reality of my situation? How much does my pain actually interfere with my life, how much is laziness under the guise of being in pain or resting to reduce pain? I'll hear people say shit like "wondering if you're faking your pain is a sign it's real." And pushing through my pain only creates more problems, but. I don't know. I'd like to swap bodies with a normal person for a day just to know what it's like.

Without chronic pain, I'd be invincible. Maybe the universe decided that I needed chronic pain to be kept in check. Something went "shit, she's going for world domination; no human can have that power, better keep her in check." Damn it, W, you and I should have never kept up those jokes...

Reading about fibromyalgia is like having six salesmen and a Jehova's witness at your front door. Everybody's found a cure! Have you tried taking mucinex every day and cutting out salicylic acids? Are you taking magnesium supplements? Weed? Doing yoga? Maybe you need to try a 'mediterranean' diet. No, no, raw vegan is the cure. How about God? HAVE YOU TRIED GOD?

(To be fair: I am aware certain nutritional deficiencies may cause/increase symptoms of fibromyalgia. But I know that tracking anything related to food is a one-way trip back to ana town, which wouldn't help anything.)

Another source of frustration: most of what I do to help alleviate my symptoms is only a minor difference. Sure, the sum of all these things that make a minor difference helps a little bit. What boils down to exercise/diet takes some of the edge off (only some, of course). Do I need to keep searching for more things that'll make more minute differences and hope that they'll sum up enough to help? And how much is it actually worth it? I don't want my life to revolve around managing symptoms.

And, the real question: is it actually fibromyalgia? Maybe there are more potential issues (with better solutions!) that haven't been ruled out. Maybe it's something else entirely. Maybe there's a clear-cut, agreed upon cause with some clear-cut, agreed-upon solutions. A girl can dream.

1029 - week in review

listening to:

The Listening - Lights - never heard her music before this week (as far as I'm aware), but it just sounds like its time in a 'it's not nostalgic but it kind of is' way. Music videos for the album are adorable.
Frankenstein - Rina Sawayama
Dancing with a Ghost - Valencia

hobbies:

finished up the scarf! It ended up being too short to properly wrap it around my neck. Had enough yarn left to salvage it by stitching the ends together to make a cozy infinity loop. How I love having something to keep my neck warm again.
to gather nano inspo: made a bunch of shitty collages from an old artbook. No idea what I'll write, but some figments are coming to mind.

internet shit:

Tom Wildenhain - included gems like "an easier way to make fractals in powerpoint" and "Can we compile C code into PowerPoint?" I'd like to play around with with these ideas when I have the time/energy to (understand how to) do so. Pretty cool either ways.
mathdetail - calculates some matrix stuff. Pleasant interface.
yours, tiramisú - I always love stumbling on a consistently active blog.
october 19. got home safe - particularly the description:
Take the train down sometime. Sell your arteries for a ticket backward. Kill your idea of yourself and weep at its grave. Don't let your friends join the military. Tell your job to fuck off. Grab some sidewalk city shadows and inhale deeply. Remember this. Keep the faith. Give a cat a kiss. Don't wait til they're gone. Much love 💚
Dancing with a Ghost (lyrics) - gotta love kinetic typography.
genre. avant-garde. - some pleasant thoughts on writing.
ended up revisiting some kpop favorites one night: Gee (Girl's Generation); Abracadabra (Brown Eyed Girls); Excuse Me (AOA); Hoot (Girl's Generation); Scream (Dreamcatcher); Piri (Dreamcatcher); Black Dress (CLC).

1030 - teenagers, online communities, and education system failures

The Nano community doesn't feel the same. Maybe it's me, and I'm just not enthused about it enough, or it could be the forums, because the activity there feels like it's died down (even for pre-season). There aren't as many familiar faces as there used to be. There are more people popping in and out. The sense of community doesn't seem to be what it used to be. And there's less talk about writing (in an abstract sense) than I've seen in the past. At any given time, there used to be a few threads of genuine conversation going on. Now it feels like most people are talking for figurative participation points. Come in, say a piece, leave. Except this isn't a discussion post (schoolwork). You aren't required to say anything. You can _literally_ do nothing. So people say air, leave, and for what end? What's the point?

A cynical part of me is blaming this on a certain subset of the teenaged population. The kind of people whose entire identity is "we're a system with ptsd bpd schizo audhd body age 13 adults DNI my triggers are umbrellas and polka dots and the dining room table from umbrella academy." The people who introduce themselves not with their interests but with their self-diagnosed list of illnesses. They don't have hobbies; illness is their 'hobby' and their entire identity. And if they are interested in a particular piece of media, they've got an alter for it and—ugh. Why do I waste my time with these people? ...it's entertaining? Draining? Context for the internet, because you run into them out in the wild and. They're nightmares. An invasive species who can kill a community. Sure, you can just ignore their posts. That doesn't stop them from engaging in the same conversations as you, constantly bringing up their fake illnesses, and even diagnosing other people who they are currently talking to. They bring down the people they're talking to and redirect the conversation to themself. It's infuriating.

Yes, yes, most of them are teenagers who are still figuring themselves out. That is fine. I'd argue that figuring oneself out is a definitive part of being a teenager. But the energy is going in the wrong direction. You're not figuring yourself out. You're trying to attach a medical problem to yourself (and it ain't just mental illness/disorders, seizure faking and unnecessary mobility aids are a common one) and living your life in an echo chamber when you could be doing anything else. Develop an interest. "Well, I'm interested in psychology uwu" then read, motherfucker! Or. Engage with your interest. Understand it. Do more than parrot information from people who are the exact same as you.

> and now you're the one expecting maturity from teenagers? hypocrite!!!!!!

I'm not sure. I think there's a natural exploration of interests that social media has killed by pigeonholing people into rabbit holes tailor made for them.

Teens are undeveloped and susceptible to influences. They (...we? i'm barely a teen) need variety. New perspectives. New ideas. New information. Develop the ability to address new info, think about it, adjust opinions accordingly. If this ability doesn't occur naturally (because you may need to realize that you can/should do it (think for yourself) to do so) / be encouraged to do so / the ability needs to be developed!), it needs to be developed. Now. What institution could do that but routinely fails? Think, class...

> stares back blank-faced

School reforms, baby! Gonna focus on secondary education (middle/high school) here, as that's where the population I'm criticizing lies. Secondary education currently fails to adequately & genuinely educate the populace. Particularly in regards to the humanities.

Targeting English (or whatever the equivalent for insert-country-here). My high school English classes were a mix of reading and analyzing books, with a handful of essays a year. (Essays tended to be: personal narratives, book analysis, opinion essays). Ostensibly, class discussions were about having a better understanding of a piece of literature; these discussions would develop an applicable skillset of being able to understand fiction & nonfiction media.

Discussions fail on both ends. In every single class I've been in, 'class discussions' are about developing a unified interpretation of the text. Sometimes, the teacher is to blame. They take what students say, compare it to their interpretation, and make students aware of that comparison. This occurs regardless of how much evidence a student has for their argument. Disagreeing with a teacher (by providing an alternative, well-backed argument!) is tantamount to undermining authority. Nope, no time for that, back in the closet ya cognizant, thinking mongrels...

Another ongoing issue comes to mind. Making an argument, then finding evidence to support said argument (and if there's none, twisting the evidence until it can support the argument). This is a recurring problem evident in my college classmates essays. Present at three relatively different institutions that attracted different populations. Also present in how my high-school siblings address the essay topics. One finds an argument, and then they find reasons to make an argument. This approach is inherently wrong; an inverse of the correct approach.

I should say that the approach I've mentioned is one where someone takes their gut instinct / reaction argument / interpretation of limited evidence to find more evidence for their initial argument. A proper approach is based on amassing evidence. This should be done using a variety of sources that disagree with each other. Alas, disagreement is not sought out.

Educators have repeatedly claimed that learning to analyze fiction books is applicable to non-readers because it teaches people to think critically about the media they consume. English classes—dare I say value?—require conforming to authority. Sounds like a critical thinking failure to me.

Why not spend (more) time reading nonfiction in class? Why not engage with the kinds of sources non-readers will continue to engage with? Why not teach people to think about the media they consume by using the media they consume as an example? Doing so could bridge the disconnect between English and the real world.

I've seen people cite TikTok as a source of statistics and other factual information. They won't cite the TikTok itself, even when writing a paper for class. They just cite TikTok. No thought is given to where the information came from or how accurate it is. Reminded of this article where one person saw a TikTok claiming Hitler invented sex dolls; the article pointed out this claim was a long-debunked hoax. Yet the people were quick to accept this 'new' information. Questioning and verifying the info didn't occur to them. This is a widespread phenomenon (an error!). The adults (the people who should know better) should step in and remedy the flaw. Not by correction & punishment, but by getting people to understand what is wrong and what they can do better and why.

> whacking a stick against that thick, idiotic skull of yours!

Aww, thanks Hermann. Though your willingness to deny reality to suit your doppelgänger-obsessed needs ain't much better...I digress.

> what're you proposing, english class as a weapon against misinformation?

...something needs to change. The literature worship has yet to provide a genuine benefit to society.

> you: cite no sources, have only anecdotes, speak in broad claims, can't/won't do a thing about the flaws you find, provide arguments that only appeal to people who agree with you, continuously make the same errors you criticize, deflect the blame, allow others to mislead you, [etcetera self deprecation], and lead a worse life than the people you criticize. raging hypocrite.

Trying to undermine my validity? You do you, boo, I never claimed to know any/everything.

1031 - discord, october

Discords work if they're created for a clear-cut purpose and have an existing audience. The purpose is communication moreso than discussion. One of my professors created a class discord server, which has served to 1) allow him to publicly answer questions from an individual 2) get a better idea of where we're struggling 3) provided a decent way for him to clarify any confusion. Another server I'd been in that worked was created for the house at one of my colleges; great way for forty people to communicate with each other as needed about certain house-issues. There was another small (~30 people) fanfic writing discord I'd been on. Again, it worked. It was small, it had a clear purpose; furthermore, ~2/3 of the population was above the age of 30. The rest was spread throughout 20s and a few teens.

The purpose was writing accountability. We'd formed from doing a set of daily writing prompts for a month. Sprints were common. So was commiserating about writing. It was peaceful. There was a sense of community/kinship there that I've never found in large discords (regardless of how focused said servers are!).

Online interactions cannot replace offline ones. If they could, there'd be no argument, no conflict, no bemoaning. "We do online, get with the timez—" what if the times aren't right? The shifts in online communication seem to have a negative impact in our offline lives. The two aren't separate. And. Warning, cop-out argument: humans weren't built to spend our lives online! We exist in an offline world that is supplemented by an online one. We interact with our native (offline) environment first and foremost. The online world attempts to sever this connection.

November

1105 - 1112

1102 - assumptions

I present myself as I am; that is, I don't deliberately influence others' perception of me. I am as I am. Others perception of me is a perception of who I am, not some mask I put on for them. People's perception of me is influenced by what they have seen of me, and whatever of their context that influences how they perceive other people. Their perception of me is a product of my actions and their thoughts.

This runs false when people have contradictory perceptions of me. A may think I'm intelligent; B may think I'm quite stupid, actually. These people perceive me based on their contexts. I am as I am. Who is correct? Is someone correct? What is most in line with how I see myself ain't accurate—I am an unreliable narrator. See the second next paragraph for more reasons why my opinion of myself is irrelevant. Is there a correct perception of myself? A concrete "this is who I am" that can be objectively determined? There is something that I consistently am (myself). How can this be accurately determined, described by an objective third party whose description of me is not influenced by their (mis)perceptions and context?

Some sort of testing could be more impartial than, say, surveying forty random people's opinion of me and taking the average of their opinions. But tests and questionnaires are subject to their own influences and inaccuracies. These are a measure of who you are according to their terms. Their terms are created by humans. How objective and impartial can these tests be? How objective and impartial can your answers to these tests be? Maybe who I am is a sum of my actions and others perceptions of me.

My thoughts are irrelevant to reality. They are only relevant when my actions & how people perceive my actions are in line with my thoughts. My actions are what influence reality. My thoughts may influence my actions. I may think that my actions reflect my thoughts. However, my actions do not exist in a void. How I act impacts others. How others react (what they think, how they perceive) to my actions are more relevant than the thoughts/intentions fueling said actions. If I think I'm acting one way towards someone, but they think I'm acting another way, I am acting the way they think I am acting. My thoughts do not influence them. My actions do.

1103 - antidepressants, pain, college

Why do people think I need to be on antidepressants? Sure, I fill in the questionnaires, and they say I'm depressed. I get by. Treatment has only ever made things worse. "Maybe you just haven't found the right pill—" but are the side effects worth it? They fuck with my stomach, make me nauseous, create brain fog, and—in one case—resulted in three weeks of nose bleeds (and a significantly heavier period). My memory is garbage when I'm on antidepressants. Once off of them, my memories of being on them are still vague. Blurred. I can read through old journal entries and accurately say I don't remember the things I wrote about. But sure, I just haven't found the right pill yet.

I wonder if I've just been cursed with the personality of a depressed person. Doctors have been telling me I'm depressed since fucking elementary school. Is there actually something wrong, or is it just an innate characteristic of mine? Not to say that all innate characteristics are fine—they can be a problem—but. Whose to say mine are? Do I need to be medicated out of being myself; can I even be medicated out of being myself? Could it be worth it? I. don't see a reason. I get by. Always have, always will. If I stop, that'll be because stopping is the right choice. I don't see a problem with my thoughts or behaviors. What I do works for me; why do people say it doesn't? Are my problems an artifact of their (mis)perceptions, or do I actually have problems? What else am I not getting...

By my standards, my main problem is pain from fibro and endo. What else am I supposed to be doing about them? What else can I do? Lifestyle changes have a limited effect. I want answers. I want a cure. Is that too much to ask for? To not have physical pains that consistently interfere with what I can do in my daily (HOURLY) life? I've been able to take the edge off. This isn't enough. I'm not satisfied. Should I be satisfied? It's as if I am and am not satisfied. I get by. My life could be better. "Getting by" could be better; my bare minimum could be better.

> how?

Pain wouldn't be interfering with my sleep. I wouldn't need to structure my life around managing pain. I'd be able to do more---I could get a job without needing to worry about whether or not pain would interfere with my ability to work. I wouldn't need to think about building breaks into my day to alleviate pain. Heh, I'd have more control over when I take breaks. I'd have more energy. Instead of pain being what drains my energy, I could participate in other energy-draining activities, like dealing with other people. Could give the world a chance; I doubt it, but I'd be a different person without pain, so who knows what could happen?!

Interactions with others leave me feeling lonely. It could always be better. I could feel like someone wanted to talk to me, like someone was interested in hearing what I had to say, like I'm not being drained to no positive effect (on either party). Sometimes I wonder if things could be better, right now, if I met the right person. Someone who didn't consume every spare bit of energy I have. Someone who felt understanding—I might not have time for them every day, and they would be fine with that. Sometimes we're together and most times we're not. Maybe this is wishful thinking. I don't talk to enough people to know.

1104

what are you doing here?
I've been asking myself this more often. What am I doing. Why am I doing. I ran into the term escribitionist—a combination of escriber (Spanish; to write) and exhibitionist—recently. It does describe what I'm doing: keeping an online diary. But why post it online? ...would you believe me if I'd said I recreated this website to try and talk to other people? No, you wouldn't, and I only think as much because the entry from then said as much. This is a public record of my existence.

Why keep posting it? Another accurate answer here feels like a cop out: I like stumbling on online diaries. Especially the ones that are/were active and regularly updated. There's something delicious about getting to peak into a stranger's life like that. Why not try it for myself? Someone like me—in that sense—could stumble on this. My site could fulfill a need. Posting this is...almost thrilling. Keeping a private diary doesn't compare to this (and yes, there's a bit there that I don't post online).

> ah
> you do so little
> that the only enjoyment you get comes from exposing yourself to the internet

Ugh, now that's a bit cynical. I'm sorry; I don't have a good defense against that argument. I'm not much of a person, it would seem.

> you COULD try and change that
> think of all the writing you'd get out of it
> nah, you don't care...

Am I being as honest with myself as I think I'm being? Am I lying to myself? Something about this doesn't feel right. Something here is wrong, or is it uncomfortably correct? If I write long enough, I'll find the answers I'm looking for. Right?

...right?

1105 - week in review, people, neocities, aesthetics/subcultures

listening:

Frankenstein - Rina Sawayama - "Put me together / thread a needle / so I'm like other people" is a mood at times. In the music video, her character is clearly an outsider until alternate-her takes her place. But she's not really this alternate version of herself. That isn't her.
Kira (discography) - in particular: 4Blood, i DO what i WANT
Unreal Unearth - Hozier - particularly De Selby (Part Two), Eat Your Young, First Time, and All Things End....I'd keep highlighting parts, but the entire album is good.

His music videos are odd because they don't focus on him. In most music videos I've seen, the singer is the main character, the person the camera continuously looks at. Meanwhile: De Selby (Part Two) doesn't include him, All Things End focuses on the choir nurses, Dinner & Diatribes focuses on a woman (SETTING HIM ON FIRE?!).

internet shit:

a professor's website - stumbled on this from a journal article the professor wrote about creating this website. Evidently, the digital classroom is nothing new. Something about this "click on the bard" is cute. The aesthetics of a personal website.
the smol-est rebellion - a nice bit of poetry about the importance of writing.
dihydrogen monoxide research division - laughter, laughter, and more laughter. The information is technically true, which is what makes it so funny.
the scorched earth party - nice satire. Got a few good laughs. Remember, folks:
Save the world through random, messy violence, and then wallow in carnal pleasure among the ruins.
andquote; - pleasant mix of words and visuals.

ran into this quote:

I can only keep up with a person’s consistent need to socialize before I have a sudden urge to shut everyone out so that I can give myself room to breathe.

By the time I’m ready to socialize again, everyone has left the party.

The house is empty.

I am all alone.

Whether that’s sad or deserved is up to you to decide. It’s simply my reality, and I’ve learned to accept it.

Which feels reflective of my situation. Evidently, I've been contemplating my loneliness (or lack thereof?), and moreso my relationship to others. To people in general. How do I want to fill my time? I revisit things I used to enjoy, because I'd rather spend my spare time on things I enjoy than force myself to get through more things that I don't enjoy. I do enough of that. But at the same time, I don't enjoy anything. Am I not trying enough? I don't know what to do. What to try.

I've not read many books this past week. I've picked up a few and put them down. My eyes keep glazing over. I'm not giving them an honest shot, so I'm not sticking them in the reading log. What little reading I have done has been related to the indie web / web revival. English essay: comparing the old web to old web revival. What are the goals of revival, and are people following through with them? Is there a genuine revival movement?

The answers I've found are disappointing, to say the least. Part of the problem seems to be that people create websites without having a goal in mind. Bikobatanari's essay goes over this well enough.

I've been creating websites on and off since middle/high school. Most of 'em were for school projects. The stylesheet I'd been using before the current redesign was literally based off a CSS framework I'd made in middle school. I'd also run various wordpress blogs at one point or another; my favorite was the one I ran on chocolate. I've gone in and out of different social media websites without liking them much. Neocities---for whatever reason---seems to fill a need that other social media doesn't. I found out about Neocities through tumblr; while I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to do with it, I was quickly able to develop my site to suite the needs social media had yet to fulfill. I didn't initially have a point in creating a website, but I figured out the purpose of it quickly enough. That's why I'm able to maintain it.

On the other hand, there are plenty of websites here that don't serve much of a point. The creators come in, drop a website lacking in substance, and then leave. Failure to interact, failure to engage; creating a personal website without being a part of a community. People don't have a reason to maintain the website, so they don't. This defeats any of their calls for so-called "old web revival." It's mimicking (? can't spell) a specific old web aesthetic without engaging in the old web itself. Being part of a community is so much more than adopting the visual appearance. You have to do. This applies to more than old web revival. The shift from subcultures to insusbstantial aesthetics of subcultures is an ongoing problem. I'd say it grew worse during the pandemic. I made significant contributions to the aesthetics wiki (mostly in regards to art history; wikipedia deplagiarism time!) ~2020. I saw the constant fighting in the discord server. What constituted an aesthetic? I remember that one time what's-her-face did a significant cleanup of aesthetics, limiting what could be called an aesthetic to what had a particular subculture surrounding it. Instead of twenty different academia aesthetics, she'd proposed simplifying it into the aesthetic that had a concrete community surrounding it. Fairy academia ain't an aesthetic; dark academia is. Ugh. I'm not interested in coming back to old debates, I've nothing new to say... only endless frustration.

> what're you about to do
> blame le teens?
> blame le tiktok?
> you go back to the same things...
> you're just salty because you don't feel like you're a part of any community

No, it's because the communities lack depth. They used to have depth. Substance. Things to say. It seems that online communities not being communities is something I keep coming back to. An itch I keep scratching. How do you engage with people when engagement isn't their default? How do you find the people you want to engage with? ---how do you learn to engage, improve your ability to engage, consistently engage, find others to engage with . . . ? Personal failures vs communal failures? (Pardon, that's not a sentence, just a broad idea. Vague. I'm being vague. I'll write my paper and figure it out as I go along. We'll see what I have to say next week.)

My sister and I went to a local coffee shop to study today. She got this smores latte that was a whopping $7; I got to taste it and wow. That was a pricey coffee worth its price. I had this cheese with bread, honey, jam, pickles, and candied almonds. The cheese (fromager d'affinois, as it was called) was like butter. Silky. Soft. Scrumptious. Melting on my tongue. Topping a piece of bread with cheese & honey & jam felt like something out of a fantasy novel. Had a nice study session and engaged in some small talk. She's incidentally forcing me to review AP Bio; a tad bit surprised by how much I remember. Enough to prod her memory to help her review. Either way, how's that for trying something a little different this week? (I really hate ordering food.)

1106

I need something to rely on. I can't rely on myself. I can't rely on my body. I've turned to fictional characters and media because my interpretations of them can be counted on. They're a real thing that I can hold onto. Unreal thing...but it's not enough. I'm not attached to them the way I used to be. They aren't real enough. I want something real. But I can't be talking to other people, because I can't be counted on, so I need to do something for myself.

Is it right to say that it's okay for others to hurt me if they get something out of it? I don't mean anything, so if someone was getting something out of me, I would mean something to them, right?

> they wouldn't be getting something out of you
> they'd be getting something out of how they can use you
> but that wouldn't be getting something out of you specifically
> you'd be replaceable

Can't replaceable things have meaning? The nature is...could be substituted with anything else that serves the exact same purpose. Anything else. Anyone else. It might be hard to find that anyone else, but they exist. People aren't that unique. You'd just need to find someone easy enough to manipulate. Some gullible fucker who is desperate enough to keep reading into everything and ignore all evidence showing otherwise. Replaceable is devaluing.

> you are devaluing yourself, aren't you
> when you say how you feel doesn't matter
> because someone else must be getting something out of you, if they're spending that much time on you, so who cares how you feel?
> someone else must benefit, right?
> someone else must be making the right choices for themself, right?

Despite continuous contrary evidence...right?

Despite them devaluing what you say 80-90% of the time.

Despite them refusing to see you as another person.

Despite—if I'm talking to someone I want to talk to, they may go on a tangent that makes my eyes glaze over. Repeatedly. But I'll still try and engage anyways. I want to talk to them, and that's more important than the information itself. Why can't I be granted the same respect? Is it that every person I speak to doesn't care about...me? Or am I the one expecting too much out of others and draining myself to no effect other than to mislead them into thinking that I'm interested in a particular topic...

This is shit. People don't want to talk to others about things they aren't interested in. I'm just desperate enough to say I'll talk to others even if I don't share their interests because...

fuck. idk. people don't make sense, though i'm not people, so who cares.

> defeatist much?

Maybe I ascribe to existentialism too much so that I can keep deluding myself into finding meaning where I shouldn't. I give others too much credit. They aren't necessarily choosing something because...They aren't necessarily engaging in voluntary actions because that's what they actually want to do or that's what has meaning to them. They just build up hope and delude themselves.

> you're not actually changing your mind
> you've gone nowhere with this

Ugh. Call it how I view reality hurts me, but I'm too delusional to try and address that. What was that quote? "We all create stories to protect ourselves?"

> hol again?
> it's as if you don't see the problem.

Sure fits, doesn't it?

It.

sure.

fits.

Why keep going?—because I don't have the will to stop. Or do anything. I don't know what to do. I don't see the other options or why bother with (insert option here). Is all of this ineffectual rambling? Am I just wasting my time—what'd spending my time effectively look like—and lack of energy on the idle dream that enough directionless words will magically provide—you don't even know what you want—I want—to enjoy something? Is that the difference between getting by and doing better? Is that the only difference—something to change—everything changes and everything stays the same—to be a different person—liar—to see the problem—you can't even decide if there is one—something to improve—you can't count on yourself—to be in less pain—pretty sure using your wrists is the opposite of that, pal—to...

Someone's presence is enough for me (low standards much?) while I can't find a way to be enough for them, or were standards too high & searching in the wrong places (deflecting the blame much?); though there's not a problem with my inability to form connections with others when the solution (isolation) harms the fewest. Is there something I'm not seeing, or do I have it all figured out (you're hilarious), I don't think I'm wasting people's time but I guess I was, sort of, if something could only work if both of us benefited when there weren't terms that could make that happen.

> you're STILL not getting it
> there's a world outside yourself and you just. don't. get it

Can I—yes and no—it's just a no. Realistic. Accurate. Rooted in evidence. Resignation. Who knows. killme.

There aren't even any good distractions. I'm browsing fucking kiwifarms...is this what my life has come to? I'm not even reading fanfic. Why does cleaning fics I no longer reread out of my kindle make me crave them? Why is not using a website that I have an account for easier than deleting the account? Holding onto something I don't use is consistently easier, and less stressful, than removing it. Fuck. I'm so tired of fandom. The drama used to feel like a hilarious kind of pointlessness—look at the dumb shit these people are arguing over, why are they arguing about it, it's a symptom of society's problems—but now it's just pointless. Same issues/debates/drama repacked for whatever media. Nothing left to get out of it. I can't resurrect my interest. Have I moved on? I'd still defend fanfic. It doesn't serve me any purpose. I've been losing it since June, with trying to get myself to write Verdante content, and trying to write healthy romantic relationships because that's what I want for those characters even though it's not what I want to write. Hah. There's still a part of me that wonders what it would take for Vergilius to engage in random acts of violence. What'd it take for him to do someone like he did Don Quixote without him having a justifiable reason?

High school. So much was wrong but out of my control so I drowned myself to stay afloat. I thought I had a future as both a professional writer and musician—I'd compose film scores and write short stories & novels on the side. I'd be busy out of my mind, but that'd be the dream.

That's not the work I want to do anymore.

Nothing is.

1107

What's my problem?—what's the solution, what's something I can cling on to to tell myself it'd all be worth it—what's a better future—studying all the math only to teach four sections of calc 1 at institutions that are progressively getting worse?—where I'm increasingly disillusioned with higher ed—maybe there'd be a handful of students who could make it worth it, but the system is broken. The institution has lost its purpose. A college education ain't necessary, but that degree is necessary to get a foot in the door, or something, I've never held a job so I don't really know, but what do my peers and I actually get out of this, what when professors are forced into lenience over drop / pass / fail rates, and funding starts getting tied to that too, and student cheating runs rampant, and it doesn't feel like people want to be here anyways.

Then I'm part of the problem. Aren't I. I don't care for what I'm studying ei—scratch that, there are parts that don't bore me, and if I felt a little bit less (insert appropriate word here) they just might interest me. I'm taking linear 2 next semester, which means more matrices; how else can an array of numbers be manipulated? I could write up a lil' program to compute all of this matrix stuff, though I should actually get to work on the current computing assignment, something about memory allocation and a magic bag of holding. Yes, yes, I'll remember to deallocate...

Apparently the music video for Dinner & Diatribes actually involved setting people on fire. Hozier & some stunt guy. The video itself feels so grotesque---the closeup shots of his and Taylor-Joy's faces, the limb movements, the food itself, the black teeth, the bit where she's rotated. Lighting and close-ups also created some nice claustrophobia.

How about we turn off the social medias for a year. Everybody gets to relearn how to have offline relationships. Seriously, trying to interact with people offline is so frustrating because they're all on their phones.

Sometimes I wish I could be invested in dumb shit. Fandom is funny because people argue about the dumbest things—it can be fun to watch from the sidelines. Maybe even develop my own opinions on what they're talking about. I just don't see the need to argue about it. Trying to convince people that I am right about (dumb thing) is a waste of time. Arguments about media are inconsequential. It's just fiction.

Sure, I've written fanfic. I've never been a part of the community. Part of this is because I don't interact with people; the rest of this is because I don't see a point. There's no conversation to be had. I'm not interested in talking about X relationship or Y characters or whatnot. I just want to take ideas out of my head, put 'em into words, and post 'em online incase someone is interested in reading 'em. Posting is a way of giving back to a community. I like seeing how people are inspired by the source material to create something new. Some people explore the source, others repurpose the characters; fan creativity is endless.

1112

internet:

Eat Your Young (Dance) - would've ignored this if not for the hands part. That was creative.
Lady Gaga - Donatella | Choreography With JoJo Gomez - the choreography itself emphasizes the excess of the song. Some of these dancers were able to emphasize the sharp repetitive movements---maybe this helped. Use of space? The last guywould be my favorite. Good use of clothes---relates to the song.
lovely - sharp, marionette-like movements.
Låpsley - Station - Sean Lew | Kaycee Rice - their movement looks so fluid / natural / effortless. The choreography itself doesn't stand out to me, but their implementation is pleasant.

Other:

English professor said he enjoyed reading my last essay and looked forward to reading my next essay. Ummmm. I've never gotten that from a professor.
Found a paper that's provided a basis for said next essay. It had statistics relevant to content on websites that would be considered part of the old web. I'll do some data gathering of my own to compare to this.
I did get around to walking around the city my school is in. Should've started before the winter weather. Found a river walkway that's closed; need to remember it for the time of year it is open.
Put together a minor video project. Was nice to work on something, for once.

1113 - 1119

1113 - identity

I tend to lose myself around other people. Undeveloped sense of self? What would that come from? My interests: reading and math are cool, I guess. What do you like to read? (????) What math do you like? Sets are nice, so are matrices. I guess that's a start. I like reading song lyrics when they have a story to tell. I like watching music videos if they have a story to tell, or if they do something new. I like books when they're something novel. Experiment with your storytelling.

I just wish it was more than that's cool, I guess. Or more concrete.

Hmm. Are interests all that there are to someone's identity? They're things that someone could try and talk to me about; I'd have more to say about them than things I'm not interested in. If you start raving about sportsball, I will tune you out. You are irrelevant. I'm interested in fandom, and the internet, and people in an abstract sense. How do people behave? They're so odd. Particularly in groups. Certain behaviors begin to characterize how people think about certain groups of people; what generalizations will they make? In another sense: website cultures. Different userbases have different 'vibes.' Does each site tend to attract a particular demographic? How does the group of people attracted to a particular site evolve? How does the outside impression of a site change? What causes a site to start to attract a particular demographic? Why do some demographics take root in particular sites? And so on and so forth. This derailed.

Who am I, beyond the set of things I gravitate towards? What do I do. I'm a student. I like learning new things. Adding new information to my repository. Expanding my understanding. Knowing how things work. How they're applied. How different topics connect to one another. Can provide context for one another. Reappear.

I engage in creative projects at times. Refinding, refining, my footing. Writing and composing have been on the backburner for a while now. Though there's one melody I've been playing with. It isn't expanding. It's going nowhere. Suspect I'll keep humming and thinking 'til the time is right. Writing wise, I have no stories. The kind of writing I do here is all that I need to do at the moment. There's more. I make videos, from time to time, and only when I have an idea. I did outline/film/edit one last week. Doing, and completing, it did something for me. Another idea is floating through my head. If it keeps evolving, demands to be outlined, it'll demand to be filmed. And edited. Etcetera. Anything else? I've been dancing, some. Improvising with what I learned in that dance class I dropped; copying some other things I've seen; playing around. I'll let it be unstructured for now. Tried to look for adult beginner dance classes—I know they exist!—with no luck. Sigh. Remember, dance is only for people who start butchering their feet when they're four...or something.

I ran a radio show at my first college. It was fun, until it wasn't. Shoutout to that one person from Germany who kept tuning in to listen to me talk about House of Leaves. Love ya. It was fun to watch the stats while I was on air. I've been thinking about starting my own. Yes, yes, I'll inflict my music taste on others...and do some spoken stuff, a la Commander Q. But that's a project to consider over Thanksgiving break. Or over winter break. I need to catch up on my computing class. Finals season will soon be upon us...

The kind of person I'd like to be. Todd. Someone who has done a little bit of everything. Spends more time doing than thinking. Knows a little bit of everyone everywhere, mostly due to their constant escapades. One week they're in an improv group, the next they're putting on an original musical, the next they're taking charge of the local chess club. They get called in to help out with a little bit of anything. They can do a little bit of everything because they've done a little bit of everything.

It was easier to be this kind of person in high school. Or some approximation. I was the composer and the clarinetist and the math kid and the baker and the writer and the smart kid and the girl who was trying to measure the school for her to-scale map. Even the artist. I wasn't close to anyone, mind you, but there were people who knew me. There were even—mock gasp—a handful of people I'd talk to between classes. Then we went remote, and everybody forgot about me. Fucking pandemic. The slight vindication—I'd written an essay on how the US wasn't prepared to deal with bioweapons, and then that happened!—is still there.

Alas. Todds are firmly people people. It's half of what a Todd is. They get people. I. don't.

Though I keep wondering. Are people something that can be 'got' in an abstract sense? Something you can get in theory without getting in practice? Maybe it's the in practice part that I keep misplacing. Forgetting that a significant amount of learning comes from trying and failing. Because...

that means inflicting myself on people. When I already struggle to converse. When I already struggle to see them as people. When people feel like a waste of time because it could be better. When I start searching for a point only to remember there's none so why even bother. When something so effortless for others drains my spare energy. When when when will it feel worth it. When will I convince myself to try. Do. Be.

1114

Had an overpriced coffee. Taste—dirty chai latte—was nothing to write home about. But: mission accomplished. Went to an unfamiliar coffee shop, bought coffee, sat in a corner and studied for an hour. Followed it with a few hours of studying at the library, then reading at one of the few benches in town. The sheer lack of people who aren't in cars is depressing. I'd rather the town more walkable, and to actually have public transport. And a genuine town. There's talk of a revitalization project, forgetting that people need a place to park so that they can go to the places. All the town is is a motley collection of businesses, some gas stations, a convenience store or two, a liquor store, dentists, a coffee shop, handful of food places, some churches, and the library. Sounds like more than it is. You can walk through it in five minutes (including time spent waiting at crosswalks).

I've come to despise this high.

I can't hate it while I experience it. How could I, when I see the world in its pure beauty, when I can see through its plagues and understand the role of each and every thing. Ideas working together in harmony. Sure, they seem to oppose, but look closer. Can't you see? It all one and the same. It's gorgeous: the energy that comes from recognizing the energy of the world.

I know how this goes. I am God; in three days I will come down to Earth with rope and attempt to leave this self-forsaken place. It is a pointless spiral. I want to avoid it. I need to maintain this. How? I don't need to eat or drink or sleep; I've gone beyond this fragile human body. It all makes sense now. My desire for humanity is an illusion. My ideals a distraction. Can't you see: yours are too? Your wants are desperate cries for an ideal, not some obtainable thing; only you can satiate your plea. And you will when you step back. You'll be lost in it all: awe and understanding. Can't you see? Step back again. You are irrelevant and you are beautiful. You are everything and you are nothing. You do/not exist. You are/not real. The world is / not here. Step back and you will graduate this plane. You will understand.

There is pure energy in my veins. I want and need nothing, for I can satiate my each and every desire. I am everything. You are, too; why can't you see it? You'll join me when you're able.

I hate this state because I know I'll fall. I don't know when it'll come again. Second time this has happened this year; no rhyme or reason, when year's first was a little less than a month ago (if you'd believe it; I don't need my loneliness itch scratched. There is nothing to scratch. Loneliness is imaginary. You are more than this). This is temporary. A glimpse into normal life, where I want to wake up in the morning. Look forward to the mundane because it is beautiful. Purpose? Who needs to find a point? I am purpose. I am the point. I am here to see where this story takes me.

I am content—or worse, happy. Who knows when it'll happen again. This feeling won't last. This high won't last. Nothing will last; there is beauty in temporary. Life comes and goes according to its influences. Each and every piece of existence responsible for adjustments to reality. I wish I could hate this feeling when I have it. Your joy is temporary; love it while it lasts. Use it while you can. The crash will happen; dread it. Figure out how to prevent it. Figure out how to sort through happy fog and find clarity. Fuck, I hate how I can feel the impeding down-ness at my borders. It is there; its purge fleeting; it will reinvade this holy ground. Fuck off. My reminder. I've no choice but to grin and bear it. I'll do so well.

I know my behaviors. I know what I'm doing. I won't write about it here. I know what people like me will do if they find it. I can't contribute to that. When I do, you'll know it's bad, and you'll know nothing you can say will change it.

I want it to be that bad. Fuck. I want it all gone. I miss that sense of control. It's coming back. Thanksgiving will be a fun challenge. I'll handle it. I always do.

hhhhh

Who am I?—how are my interactions with others a part of this? How are my relationships a part of this? I live with my parents and siblings. I ain't close to them. I rarely say more than the niceties. There isn't a point; nobody is interested in hearing what I have to say. Nobody listens. I listen, mind you, mostly because my dad has to talk at someone (not to) and I'm in the car with him or whatnot. How about with other people? They're rare. Mostly ghosts. If someone isn't a ghost, but they're still talking to me, it isn't because they're interested in talking to me specifically. They've just got a loneliness itch that they want to scratch; some need they delude ourselves into thinking I can fulfill. People don't want to talk to people who don't (intuitively) get interactions. They don't want people who tend to stick to themselves and are rarely inclined to socialize.

I'm sorry. I don't get what I felt, or what I'm doing here. Or what I was doing. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't keep talking. I don't know what to do. Or what I want to do. No, wait, I knew what I wanted to do there, but not the how, nor have the capacity. Ability. My people ability is lacking, since I so rarely need it, since I'm so un-inclined to them so I fail on the rare occasion I am inclined. 1116 right on schedule. I'm down again. Why do I even bother. I'm walking through the library. This used to be a dangerous thing. I'd come out with a pile of books---I'd easily check out twenty or thirty books a week, and read them all. Now? Nothing catches my eye. I reluctantly grabbed a book of essays by an author I've heard of, and a graphic novel that I saw some book group reading. I won't go to the book group. Sorry to disappoint, though you'd expect that by now...

I'm so fucking tired. Sleep doesn't stalk me. I stalk it. No, that's not even good edgy teenage bullshit. Fuck I'm tire.d. Why bother writing this. I'm wasting time, aren't I? I don't mean to waste others timek. Though is it wasting time if you'd not be doing something better with your time. If you're draining your energy in a way better than the other ways you'd drain your energy. You're wasting time, but you're not wasting time. Does that make sense? I doubt it, but you'll not correct me...

What's the point.

I'm doing things differently. I'm walking around unfamiliar places and going to unfamiliar coffee shops and buying food for the sake of doing something new. Sure, I'm getting a handle on doing normal things & engaging in normal minor interactions. New data acquired.

and that's all everything ever is to me, isn't it. Amassing data. I use very little of it, even when I do have the opportunity to use it.

I would leave if only I could find a reason

nothing's getting to me. Why don't things get through to me. Why don't I get it. Can't I just fucking figure it out already.

I should stop writing, shouldn't I? Then I'll fall into daydreaming. Stagnant writing is a step above stagnant thinking. It's something I can look at; I can go through my words and try to figure out what I meant. What am I feeling. What was I thinking. I don't even get myself. I'm not a person. Shouldn't something about that have changed by now? I've taken drastic leaps out of my comfort zone this year. Mostly in regards to...getting to know someone online? Talking to someone in an informal manner? Other interactions. Mostly with the same person, and a few handfuls with a variety of others. Many new things there. Yet I don't feel like anything's changed. I'm still behaving in the exact same way, thinking in the exact same circles, and modifying behaviors in the exact same ways. There's no change, minute or significant.

I'm in the business of losing your interest
& I turn a profit each time that we speak

Why bother? I'm living in the better future that I used to imagine. It's not better. The surface problems have shifted, or disappeared. Real problems are exposed. The root remains. But all problems are imaginary. Why bother?—because I don't care enough to (try and) kill myself. The odd thing, if you don't think too much, is that it isn't that hard to find a way to kill yourself. There's plenty of ways to cut off one's air supply. Choke on a grape and die. Two issues: survival instincts (a real bitch. 'I can't breathe!' oh get over yourself already) and possible vegetation. Fail and you may very well have a worse rest of your life. Yeesh.

I used to care, but did I really? I do envy people who accidentally overdose on painkillers. To have so much faith that they'll work...I can't imagine. To be so delusional. I guess life is just a string of delusions we wrap ourselves in to get through the day. People make it easier to be delusional, but I've noone, because I'm not people and who wants to be around that.

I'm whining, aren't I. I'm stagnant. Let's go jerk off and pretend that that ain't disappointing too. I don't know what I want. Scratch that; I want something to. actually. change. What actually needs to happen? Can anything actually change me? Moreso than amassing data. Fuck. I'm going to be going in circles for the rest of my life, aren't I.

Other people deserve to have better lives. To improve. To be content, if not happy. All because they exist, and that's enough reason to want for them to have better lives. And then there's me, who has repeatedly failed to do any fucking thing. I'm not working towards a better future. There is none. That's precisely why I don't deserve nice things. I don't get them. Getting is beyond my comprehension. Why even bother.

I saw the end
It looks just like the middle

I hate how memories turn into daydreams. How my brain starts to decide that never would have happened; must have been a daydream. I know it wasn't. There's real evidence that I spoke to someone, but then again, why would anyone want to speak to me? (Is writing / thinking this implicitly devaluing them and / or me? I don't mean to devalue the person I'm thinking about. It isn't my intention. Devaluing myself is fine, though, since I've no value either ways. I don't mean a thing. They do, though. I kinda dislike making public something about someone who may well be reading this. Yet I will anyways? I remove parts of this before posting. Maybe there's a limit to what I'll 'censor.'

Why talk to people? I don't need to. I'm just fine without them. All I have to offer is my company, which ain't worth anything. Shouldn't waste people's time like that. I'll stop. I won't try. There's no reason to.

I have to read events in a certain light. What has my life been, if I read them in a different light? What I want has always been irrelevant. If I don't like how someone's treating me, I need to grin and bear it. If I say "I don't like that, please stop" they'll still keep doing it. Because I should be grateful that they at least care enough to interact with me. Because them interacting with me is a sign that they care, and if I say that I don't like their behavior, I'm rejecting them. That's called being rude. The majority of people in my life who have interacted with me are adults, so they know what's best for me. A six year old doesn't actually know what she wants; she might think that she wants something, and she might think that she has likes and dislikes. She could be wrong. She is wrong. Only the adults know for sure; so when you tell them you don't like something, they know that you do like it, and that it's what's best for you. You shouldn't reject them. You need to be on your best behavior, or else they'll stop interacting with you. And if they stop, nobody will take their place, because who would? You're nothing without them.

Right?

> just grow up already
> or kill yourself
> fucking do something
> you're so immature
> all you do is whine
> you don't even know what you're talking about
> you don't remember what happened yesterday
> much less things that happened years ago
> and there's nothing to remember
> you had a normal childhood
> you're nothing special
> get over yourself

You're not like the other girls your age used to be a compliment.

That changed.

> you think you meant something to someone?
> you think that that's how people treat people they care about?
> you think that it's fine for people to deliberately hurt you?
> you think that it's fine for people to ignore what you say, because they know what you really want?
> you think that you can trust everybody else to be making the right choices?
> you think that...

> "what I want doesn't matter; I should be grateful for the attention"
> ...
> you're LITERALLY devaluing yourself
> why can't you see it
> why don't you get it
> why won't you believe it
> fucking retard

1116

I need food, right? I'll go home and make eggs and sausage. That'll cheer me up. And we've got mozarella balls. They're best with some salt and red pepper flakes. Need that spice. Need some sensation. I got to work on next month's bujo setup. Doesn't feel right to call it a setup. I don't do fancy shit anymore. Can be done with any spread in under ten minutes. No more hours of work. No more cover pages. No more searching for the right quotes. I doodle over everything throughout the week. Doodle feels like an exaggeration. Most of it's song lyrics and other thoughts. Ideas. I don't quite get strtok. I've a feeling it'll be on tomorrow's quiz. Quick, try and write it properly:


        char* token = NULL;

        token = strtok(myString, ".");

        while (token != NULL) {

           printf("%s \n", token);

           token = strtok(NULL, ".");

        }

I'm aware that strtok_s is what I should be using. But then it doesn't compile, and trying to get it to compile according to c11 instead of c99 has been more effort than it's worth. Yeah, I'll keep going the lazy way. Hey, I wrote it right the first time!

Another issue.


        strncpy(targetString, myString, _countof(targetString));

does not compile. _countof is flagged as an implicit declaration of a function. I keep writing


        strncpy(targetString, myString, sizeof(targetString)/sizeof(targetString[0]));

which hypothetically does the same thing. (Correct me if I'm wrong!). The professor's code clearly runs for him in class, yet it won't even compile pour moi. strlwr and strupr don't work either. Not going to bother with the character equivalents. Thankfully, this ran:


        int result = strcmp(xo, oo);

  if (result == 0) {printf("hey! theyre the same\n");}

  else if (result == 1) {printf("not the same!!!!1\n");}

strcat() also keeps giving me problems. It's not being flagged as an implicit declaration (hallelujah); instead, 'array type char[80] is not assignable.' Argh. Cannot wait to fail this in a few minutes---yes, I'm writing some of this C stuff on Friday morning, under the Thursday entry for clarity. Now I'll copy-paste the rest of the Thursday entry for your entertainment:

Sometimes, song lyrics are too stuck in my head. All I hear right now is Fuck that, sir, just let me call / I'll give you my blood alcohol (...) Honey it / rang even the cops thought you were wrong / for not picking up / But I'll dial drunk I'll die a drunk I'll die for you. If you know the song you can hear it. If you don't, it ain't that great. Or you're being introduced to new music. The album is giving New England heading into winter vibes. I'm saying that as someone who is usually annoyed by vocals & acoustic guitar.

I'm seeing my (former) high school's musical tonight! Can't wait to see the opening night performance from the other end. I've played opening night twice, so I know how rough it can be from the performer's end. I miss experiencing the way a musical comes together during tech week. There's nothing like it. Monday: try and run through it. Spend four hours on act one, try to start act two. Wonder if you'll get through it before the show. Tuesday: you get through it. It takes an hour or two longer than necessary. You're ironing out the kinks. The pit is used to having vocals, and the vocals are getting used to having live music. Wednesday? By the grace of God, you ran through it. You've even had time to rerun some scenes. Rehearsal is all of four hours—two whole hours shorter than the previous two nights. There's going to be a few more scenes rerun before each show. Thursday highlights the major flaws, but you'll remedy them right before Friday's show.

god i miss it. High school musicals are just two months of ever-increasing chaos. You have to be devoted. I had to practice my ass off because there were, what, 2.5hr of music I had to learn? And it's the professional shit, the touring version of what Broadway does. Fuck was Seussical hard. I envy you vocalists; you don't know the pain of key changes. F# major should be illegal. Sight-transposing the oboe solo for Alone in the Universe...glorious. Bad idea, mind you, but the oboist dropped out and I had to learn to cover her parts the week before the show. Oh, A, I really wish we could've played in pit together. You were better than you thought. (She'd always fall asleep next to me during chem class. So cute). *clears throat*

Oh. The guy who was a bad clarinetist when I played with him just came out with a bass clarinet. Sizeable pit. With strings! The string orchestra had good players, but they never joined pit when they were needed. Looks like they got people this year.

THERE ARE TWO BASS CLARINETISTS. WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY. I SPENT FOUR YEARS AS THE ONLY ONE IN THE SCHOOL. Good to see someone appreciating these instruments. Funny how I recognize the bass clarinets themselves.

One of these girls is really good. She collapsed so suddenly; I'd thought she actually fainted. Nope, just a very good. Nice to see my mom's costume work in action. Still can't believe that one piece worked out. Musicals can make the zaniest of plots seem so natural. They're an exercise in suspending disbelief. Also: is this the first time I've gone to see a musical? ...yes. Heh. I've been in more musicals than I've seen.

I'm pleasantly surprised by how good this was. All the leads had great voices and did their roles well. Some of them need refinement, mind you—enunciation is important!—but they were pretty good. Even had body language down right; most of the show looked natural. Good work.

1118

Response to why are teachers calling out gen z? - my solutions:
Start giving children failing grades. Hold them back a grade, when necessary. No more 'you came to class, here's a B' or 'you need to pass to go on to the next grade.' This will require administrator and teacher support. Consequently, financial support. (Unsure about parent support). Holding back children and giving them the support they need to build the foundational skills they lack will require a small teacher:student ratio. None of that 'one elementary school teacher vs. 30 students' bullshit. A 1:10 ratio could be ideal. Yes, I'm pulling that number out of my ass.

This requires more teachers nationwide. (greater?) Financial incentive for teachers teaching in areas that have a shit teacher:student ratio could support this. These teachers will also need administrator support. Administrators cannot continue coercing teachers into passing along children with severe foundational deficits. If someone can't read, how the hell can they be expected to write an essay analyzing a text? If someone can't do basic algebra, how the hell can they be expected to get through their science and math classes? Etcetera etcetera etcetera. Passing students who lack foundational skills is detrimental to their learning. One day, these people will be adults. They will not be capable of contributing to the world; the excess of them will continue to degrade the quality of people who exist.

Oh, and apply this to colleges. Be selective. Standardized testing has been corrupted by cheating and exam prep, but it does have a place. College students should have basic math, reading, and writing abilities. If these abilities are lacking, they must be provided with resources to remedy these inabilities. Not being put into classes that they are incapable of doing the work for.

Not everybody is cut out for college. Not everybody needs to go to college. Emphasize other opportunities. Entry-level jobs where the knowledge that comes from obtaining a bachelor's degree is not needed should not require a bachelor's. For this to happen, a high school diploma needs to mean something. The current system of passing children along regardless of their knowledge has made the high school diploma meaningless.

tl;dr: let actions have consequences again. (This does extend to behavior issues. If actions have consequences, people will be more inclined to take things seriously. Yes, even five year olds.)

(btw, covid / remote learning is not the issue. It may have accelerated ongoing problems, but it sure as hell didn't cause them. Stop beating a dead horse. People have been blaming No Child Left Behind for as long as I can remember. Though we've gone from 'teaching to the test' to 'who cares about the test; we'll flub the scores to make them pass.' I've not fleshed this out well at all. Doesn't matter.)

1119

internet shit:

paragraph - remembering how sentences should go together.
forty paragraphs - remembering how to write a research paper.
A Student's Life (gLiTcH art performance) - interesting juxtaposition of images with audio.
How to Split the Bill When Dining Alone - an answer to the age old titular question.
your dick shouldn't fit in this - that was funnier than it was supposed to be. The rest of the website got some good laughs out of me. Contains foul opinions; let the easily-offended be warned.
FIGHTING with my ASMR boyfriends... - her videos are consistently a delight. Argue with your ASMR boyfriends. It's good for the soul.

Data that nobody cares about. Manually went through the 224 most recent members of the Yesterweb web ring as of January 6, 2023. 45 of these websites are now defunct. Of the remaining 179:
Email: 67 (37%)
Visitor counters: 22 (12%)
Guestbooks: 72 (40%)
Chat: 33 (18%)
Web rings: 93 (52%)

Compare it to a data set from ~2002:
Email: 220 (22%)
Visitor counters: 108 (10.8%)
Guestbooks: 99 (9.9%)
Chat: 30 (.3%)
Web rings: 47 (.47%)

This is not what I was expecting to find. I thought the percentage of people with social features would go down, not up. I'd like to be able to compare the usage of these features, but I don't have the data for it. (Not to mention a manually-gathered data set is pretty shitty. Errors abound). I should have noted how many people were all 'here's my email, idk why you'd need it.' Of the Neocities users I've emailed, I've only ever had two respond. Admittedly, the number of non-respondents isn't that much bigger---I'm not counting. The number is not greater than ten, I don't think. Email penpal sites have a similarly low rate, so there's no surprise there. 73 (40%) of sites surveyed listed social media. I should look at what the overlap is between people listing email and social media. And discord. I suspected that the number of people listing social media would be significantly greater, but it didn't look that way.

1122 - 1126

1122

Working on something by choice gives me something to look forward to. More effective when it's something that will be shared with others. A way for me to be a part of the world while keeping my distance.

I like filling in holes. Creating things that I wasn't able to find myself. My work in the Nocturnal Academy fandom is the best example of this. I wrote the fics that I couldn't find. Hell, I wrote all of the fics Bar one mis-categorized one. Posting these fics meant there would be fics for people to read; my work satisfied a (hypothetical) need. I filled in a hole. The lyric videos I used to make did the same. So did my fan music videos. I couldn't find what I wanted, so I did it myself. Nobody is so unique that there isn't another person with the same wants as them. I'm not the only person looking for content that isn't there. If I have an idea, and acting on it fills in a hole, I am contributing to society.

Working on something by choice—is this why talking to someone who I want to talk to gives me something to look forward to? Is this the same idea in a different context? Continuously interacting with a person is different from continuously creating something (working on a project). It isn't the same as continuously learning about something. Hmm. When you keep talking to someone, you do keep learning about them. You're also forced to continuously apply your newfound knowledge. Creating something is a continuous application of knowledge. Following this, talking to people is closer to creating something than mere information hoarding.

What's the link between learning and understanding (in this context)? Surface-level learning is mere information collection. Genuine learning goes hand in hand with understanding. It necessitates trial and error through continuous application. Better known as FAILURE. Failing gives you new perspectives on something: what went wrong? Why did it go wrong? How could it go better? Understanding means answering these questions. Failure forces you to break down a problem. You can break down a problem naturally (by choice; not as a result of failure). Isn't that akin to taking the problem out of its context? You'll be more able to see where things could go wrong, and understand what went wrong. First-hand experience is application. First-hand experience with failure is inherently intimate; it is about you, specifically. Not an abstract potential you. First-hand is real; second-hand is abstract. Literal v hypothetical. Understanding v abstract awareness. The list goes on.

I'm not lonely. Shouldn't I be? I've not had a conversation with someone in over a month. No-speak November. My company is enough for me. We figure things out. We do things. We get by. Other people upset this balance.

I don't see posting this online as seeking attention. If you're reading this, it's because you want to. (And if you're reading this but don't want to be reading this...why the hell are you here?!). Does this fill in some implicit need? Why do I read others of my ilk? I like the insight into other people's lives. What do other people think and do? Where is their energy going at the moment, and why? Have they read / watched / listened to anything interesting recently? It's a way to expose myself to new information. People are a product of their contexts. Some people have vastly different contexts; they're going to introduce me to something new. More rarely, reading what someone posts online is a way for me to keep an eye on them when not speaking to them.

Why does the minutiae of other people's lives matter to me so much? Does it matter? I try to avoid spending time on things that don't matter to me. I make the conscious choice to seek out people's minutiae; try to find blogs and read through them. Stumble on ones and bookmark to read 'em later. It's a way of seeing how the rest of the world lives. Or finding #relatable content. Not much different from how I interact with fanfic. Or reading in general. Everything is either insight into other people, or a way to find people 'like' me. I want to feel understood. Posting fics was (at times) a way to get people to understand me. This was more important when I was experiencing symptoms of DPDR, and later when loss of reality was a major thing. See my journal entries from last year for examples of that. I ain't digging up the fanfics.

I don't know, with certainty, what it was that resolved some of these issues. Getting out of high school helped. Getting away from college dorms helped. Is the change in environment all it took? Were these some temporary symptoms of teenager that I grew out of? ...I hope they're gone forever. I don't want to deal with that again.

All I'm left with are passive (read: old, long-lasting) problems. I don't want to exist. Positive emotions aren't real. I've been tired and in pain for as long as I can remember. So it goes. Evidently, I get by. I'm still here. I'm in college. I create shit and I consume shit and I interact with (don't make me laugh). I don't really see what the problem is. I've spent my entire life like this. The "ups" are rare (a couple days a year? hell, the "ups" started, what, two or three years ago? and I don't like them. I'm delirious and do things that I don't like and barely remember. At least they're exceedingly short lived—about four days, at most?—and have happened, at most, twice a year. Not often enough to bother tracking). Sure, there are times when I'm actively suicidal, but I get through them. And if I ever don't, well, good riddance.

Is there a problem? I get by. I'm discontent. Should getting by be enough for me? What would doing more than just getting by look like (REALISTICALLY)?—and I'm back to my pains again. Took a vitamin D supplement for the past two months without seeing any change in pain. Went off of it; unsure if the increase in brain fog is related. Heh, maybe the other vitamin D would do more for me. Some people find that massages help with their pain; I've tried using a foam roller for a 'similar' effect. For the past month. To no avail. Magnesium supplement is next. I'm skeptical, but. Fucking hell. I want some relief. I wish I could take alternative medicine seriously enough to be placebo'd by it. Or to be convinced to try it. I don't mean that seriously—acupuncture is expensive, herbal supplements are pyramid schemes. "Not all—" but you understand what I'm saying. You aren't correcting me either.

I'm so tired of writing about pain. just don't— yeah, but this is me trying to work through my problems. Or handle my life. I can't divorce myself from something that is constantly interfering with my life. I can try. I do try. I'm pretty good at figuring out when I can or can't work through the pain. I'm pretty good at working through the pain regardless of if I should be. At the end of the day, though, it's this ache in my bones that won't go away. (amongst other things...I'm downplaying my symptoms, and I don't feel like describing the different constant pains I feel). If I ignore it too much, it'll escalate, and then my (fine) motor abilities are impaired. Immediate problem. Avoidable (ish).

Where was I going with this. Other than off-track. What am I discontent with. How can I stop being discontent. Is that even the problem? Is this something where directly addressing it is the right approach? Or are there indirect approaches—other issues that can be addressed and implicitly help with the discontent?

I don't understand people. I don't get what it is that I'm not getting. I can't break down the problem, and I can't figure out what questions to ask. I only know there's a problem because I see the symptoms of it in my interactions with others. Miscommunication. Does everything boil down to miscommunication? People are weird. There's the words they say, and then there's how they mean for their words to come across. These aren't the same thing. Sometimes they mean to have contradictory interpretations where it's up to the listener to decide how they want to take it; should they treat something seriously, or as a joke? (being a common example of this). That one is very context dependent. And how do you even know what they mean to say. You're supposed to pick up on all the contexts: immediate (ex time, place, setting), the conversation, the conversational partner (what information you already have about them, their body language, how they're feeling; these latter two are inconsistent. Excess of context), probably more kinds of relevant contexts.

Tone has a lot to do with the meaning of your words. You may be angry with someone and want to yell at them, but you don't want to upset them. Your tone has consequences. You have to get it right.

and then emotions are important, but that's where I'm well and truly lost. You're supposed to be able to intuitively pick up on what other people feel. I don't get this. I can run through body language, guesstimate from their words/context/tone, and try to figure it out. I'm often (always?) wrong. Missing context.

1123

She's doing things she shouldn't be doing. She doesn't really get why they're bad for her. Sure, she's restricting, she's reading nutrition labels, she's browsing ana forums, she's pinching her body and wishing the excess would go away. She's slightly underweight. She's fat. She's spending money on a game. Just three dollars, is what she told herself, and she hasn't spent more. She's fighting the urge to calculate how much she'd have to spend to complete the current gacha. She doesn't want anything from it. She's thinking about moving money into her account. She's thinking about spending money to pull. She doesn't want anything she could pull for. She's thinking about spending regardless.

She tells herself that there's something thrilling about playing again. She's playing with fire. She thinks she likes it. It's a constant weight on her mind. She thinks it helps her relax. She thinks it gives her something to look forward to. She thinks it's something she can count on.

((She thinks it's stupid. She's looking forward to a fucking dress up game. She doesn't want to play it. She plays it regardless.))

She tells herself that she's showing that she's grown. She's playing without spending. She spent three dollars last week. She tells herself she won't spend more. She'll only spend if she wants to. She didn't want to.

(((She tells herself it's better than her other distractions. She says it's better than browsing reddits. She says it's better than reading snark.)))

She dreads playing. She played for two hours today. She doesn't enjoy playing. She wants to play. She'd stop if she wanted to. She wants to stop. She doesn't see a reason to.

((((She's moving sideways.))))

1124

At this point, I think I just miss being delusional enough to think that someone talking to me meant that I meant something to them and was able to do something for them. What do I have to offer to other people? My company? That's shit. There's a reason why I've never had friends. M put up with a lot of my shit, but it was because I was the one person in our classes who was willing to talk to him. That year was a constant string of me cutting him out, only to start re-speaking to him a few weeks later. I'd keep switching between being responsive and unresponsive; he'd persisted anyways. Fluff only kept speaking to me because they thought I was trans. I really fucked up in not responding to that email. Long-standing difficulties with timeliness.

At best, I'm close acquaintances with someone. Sounds like an oxymoron. I value (?) individuals significantly more than they value me. I'm rarely speaking to more than one person at a time, so whoever I'm speaking to automatically gets all of my people energy. If I want to speak to someone, I'll speak to them; I literally don't have other options. Other than keeping things to myself. If you're talking to someone, they may expect you to 'open up.' Then it makes sense to speak to them when you feel inclined to.

Except that's wrong. Most people only spoke to me because they could say whatever and know that the information wouldn't go further. I can shut up and listen. That's all (most?) people want(ed?) me to do. It's fine for them to come and whine at me about the things they couldn't talk to their friends about. I can't help them find a solution to their problems—that always failed—but I could listen to them. I couldn't initiate a conversation with them. That's not what they wanted. They just wanted to talk at me when it was convenient. Not to, nor with; I learned early enough.

Every relationship (I mean that in the general sense) is lopsided. People never want me. I'm easy and convenient, so they'll talk at me, but that's not because they want to talk to me in particular. I just happen to be there. I don't feel like I get to talk to people because, well, they always have better things to be doing. They have real friends and I'm not one of them. I'm irrelevant.

Reading isn't working for me right now. What do I get out of reading? Escapism? I'm not looking for escapism. It doesn't comfort me the way it used to. It's a distraction, but not one that I want. Escapism doesn't do anything for me in the short term (at this moment); it sure as hell doesn't do anything for me in the long term. Not beneficial; not detrimental either. I keep telling myself that reading books is a better distraction than scrolling. I'd rather spend time on a book I don't like than check websites. But barely so. Saying reading is the lesser of two evils isn't quite right, but it does capture the sentiment.

I say reading gives me insight into others and provides me with new perspectives. Does it really? It's like I'm searching for one piece of information that'll help everything make sense. I don't know where it is; I'll read widely and indiscriminately to try and find it. I'll know it when I see it.

Will I really? The amount of books I've read in the past year that actually offered me something new is pretty low. Not even a dozen, I'd bet. I do a lot of reading. Am I reading the wrong books? Or is it less what I'm reading and moreso that I'm reading? Could be a mix of both.

Fanfiction can offer new perspectives on a piece of media. Initially. Then you get a hold of what the fans tend to write—most fandoms do have patterns—and the novelty is gone. True novelty in fiction is so hard to find. I don't know where/how to look well. My current 'method'—read a little bit of everything—doesn't work. It's unreliable. I don't know how to predict whether or not a novel will offer something new and/or interesting.

How about nonfiction? Then it depends on how directly applicable the information is. How useful is the information to me? A book about the evolution of religion would bring me new information. There were two I tried to read today. They didn't answer questions I had; I didn't even have questions that they could answer. I couldn't bring myself to be interested in reading them. I've gone in and out of reading popsci books. I can't get much out of them. They're parts of a tasting platter, at best. To get something out of them, the reader has to be interested enough to use them as a starting point. Start looking through what sources they cite. Go deeper. Popsci books might introduce you to something in an understandable format, but not in a way where you can truly understand all of the moving pieces.

I don't know where to go from here. If I'm not reading, I'll fill the time with worse distractions. So...stop trying to fill the time? Then I daydream or meditate. I'm not sold on either of those being the right distraction. Daydreams tend to reek of self-indulgence. Meditation leads to dissociation; it's just escapism with extra steps.

Get up. Lie back down. The blankets aren't warm enough—could be working on school, could be done with that essay by now—scroll through the phone. Browse the web—should be writing that update, should be doing yoga—keep going through the directory from two weeks ago. You should create your own, are you going to update?, you need to take a break. Nothing to say. Blow nose. Keep scrolling. Maybe they'll email. Stop. Keep scrolling. It's half my fault, I just like to play the victim. Maybe you liked feeling hurt. You sick, sick fuck. Get up. Get yogurt. Get raspberries. You need to look into food allergy testing. Get water. Get painkillers. The sink & counters are covered in dishes. The dishwasher needs to be emptied. Eat.

There's no noise in the house. You'll leave for mass in fifteen minutes. Dad's still on the phone. Your youngest brother (his son) is asking to play with him. Nothing will change if you never choose. Mom's waking up the rest of your siblings (her kids). You'll leave for mass in thirteen minutes. Need to put away laundry. Need to do the dishes. Mom is busy this week; work on dishes. How pure, how sweet a love Aretha, that you. would. pray. for him. Dad shoves his phone in your face, some old photos, why is he showing you old baby pictures. Grin and bear it.

Get in the car. Everyone dawdles. You need to leave for mass two minutes ago. Drive by someone with a camera. Go and take this the wrong way. Maybe they're looking at the birds. Other brother sniffles. Don't offer him a tissue. What am I not getting? Why am I not getting? Why does it matter? One of your sisters went to mass last night; Dad asks where she's at now. We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson; raise 'em on rhythm and blues.

Mass started late. Stand. Need to work on that essay. Could paint nails. Need water. Could clean upstairs bathroom. Need to put away laundry. You're here for a reason but you don't know why. Sit. Ugh, homily. Do you need to be helped? Improved? Wonder what masturbating with sandpaper feels like. You sick, sick fuck. Need to finish writeup. Need to do physical therapy. Need to vacuum. Stand. Should clean downstairs bathroom. Need to study for driver's permit. No time to read. Sister already registered for her test. She'll have her permit before you. Piece of shit. Want chocolate. Was that a motorcycle? Kneel. Shouldn't have thrown out those pens. Need to catch up on programming assignments. Need to study for linear algebra. There's a quiz tomorrow. Stand. Hope I wake up young again. Someone blows their nose. Communion. Go home.

Essay. You'll be at your computer for an hour. Paint nails. Forgive my northern attitude, oh I was raised out in the cold. Check assignment. Stare. Why do you still reread em----? You sick, sick fuck. Five sentences to revise. The key concept is the development of online communities. The key concept is how personal websites play a role in forming connections online. The key concept. The key concepts are. The main ideas I am looking at is are how the internet has changed over time and how people have formed connections and developed communities online. You don't get it. You don't get what it is. You're disappointing. Add another coat of nail polish. And I'll drink. alcohol till my friends come home for Christmas. Need to submit this. Focus. Click through a web ring. Focus. Copy paste, reformat, gotta make a pdf. Could summarize another manifesto. Focus. Read through Yesterweb criticism. Focus. Run spellcheck. Export.

Submit.

Dawdle. Scroll. Write. I never face the music when it's dire. Could put away laundry. Could work on programming. Open textbook. When you're dancing with a ghost. Focus. Focus. Fowwwwwww-cus. int *var declares a pointer named var of type int. Right. You know this. 13/20 on pointer and array quiz. Review. Need to review. Focus. Spinning out, I think we've lost control. You don't get it. You just don't get it. Fuck. Strings. Open text editor. Want to work on website. Open terminal. Glare. Should revise that assignment. segmentation fault. Give me a chance to speak my mind; my opinions are the social kind.

JanuaryFebruaryMarchAprilMayJuneJulyAugustSeptemberOctoberNovemberDecemberitial valuee?????????????????????????????e*?????????????????{????????T????????????d????????executable_path=./8string_path=./8stringtringgleIdentifier=com.apple.Terminaler=com.apple.Terminalle.Terminal%

Close the computer. Wrists are numb. Need to clean the bathroom mold. Put away nail polish. Need to eat. Clean up papers. Heat up beef. Where did you go wrong? You shouldn't have spoken. Freeze excess beef. Dad and brother are arguing about 3d printers, media servers, and mountain bikes. Eat beef. Need to finish laundry. Need to do yoga. Need to use foam roller. Still hungry. Put on wrist brace. Hope they're well. Know they're not. Waste an hour. Scroll. Click. Read. Click. Read. Click. Hungry. Refill cup. Need to wash water bottles.

Put away laundry. Get started on an application. They need transcripts you don't have. Why did you transfer? Why did you drop out? You didn't really drop out. You left mid-semester. You enrolled elsewhere a few months later. Doesn't count as dropping out. Run of the mill failure. Medication fuckup. Conflicted. Exhausted. Youtube keeps recommending eating disorder vlogs. Watch them. Shouldn't keep watching. Arm is numb. Fuck, everything hurts. Still need to study. Clean. Do. more. My best is never enough.

did not get the internship. Hallelujah. Sure, part of me was disappointed—first time I'd gotten an interview for a paid internship—but I'd rather not spend my summer in sales. I keep looking through REUs, though getting rec letters will be nigh impossible. This, folks, is why twice-transfer is bad. Not to mention that one program I was excited for required transcripts I don't have. My fault—I'd waited until the penultimate day to get started, and wasn't willing to pay $7 for a copy of (unofficial!) transcripts from that college.

I think (hah!) the question I keep getting at is what makes life worth living. Real self-help book of me, I know. It's easy to identify a few points at which life genuinely wouldn't be worth it (by my terms), most for medical reasons, I ain't letting myself contemplate any larger problems because they're just around the corner. Aren't they? Right, just don't think about the state of the world. Just. don't. think.

I'm in [CITY] with my mom and sisters. They're trying on coats at this fancy store where nothing is affordable. The store is filled with teen girls and women; all of them look like TikTok addicts. Blaming shit on TikTok—it's a distraction, isn't it? A surface issue hiding some other problem, though the moment you bad-talk China and suggest some things aren't weird coincidences is the moment you're a conspiracy theorist. They're trying to cover up an ongoing genocide, ffs. And how (depressing) is it that the number of ongoing genocides (PLURAL) is greater than zero?! Genocide is deciding "this group is responsible for all ill, better eradicate them all"—how ignorant—not the right word. Genocide is a complicated process that comes in stages. Start by identifying an "in" group and an "out" group. Repeatedly ostracize the out group. Let hatred toward them build. Maybe a few bad eggs of the out group define the out groups tendencies to the public eye. Better yet, let hatred of the out group come from fictions/myths that have accumulated over time and become widespread. (Recalling: centuries worth of antisemitic ideologies/fictions/etcetera—at some point, the amount of context for the Holocaust is ridiculous). Further ostracize the out group. Label them. Make the out group visible: ex. wearing something that identifies them as a member of the out group. The out group is ostracized to a point where hatred of them is normalized. To further the divide, why not put the in group up on a pedestal? They are, after all, better than everybody else. (read that with sarcasm). Fuck, where was I going with this...

and that's how you start a genocide!

Bothered by how much novelty means to me. Sent a postcard, which felt nice. Though it was only enjoyable because it was something I hadn't done before. Wasn't it. Ugh.

I can't find meaning. I'm not actually doing things that have meaning to me. I don't know where I want to be putting my time. Learning is the only thing that keeps me going. My limp-hearted desire for a better understanding is the only constant. Was part of why I was reading. Most of the information gleaned from fiction wasn't new. It doesn't give me insight into others. I'm repeating myself.

I don't know what to do anymore
As if I knew what to do before
I can fuck up almost anything

So it goes.

I keep seeing the faces of people I used to know on people I don't know. Then I blink. They look nothing like the person I thought they looked like.

There was some guy at the train station playing electric guitar. Sounded nice, though I didn't have the time to actually listen. Had to catch the train. Not much to note about the day. I was dragged in and out of clothing stores. Abandoned family for a disappointing bookshop. Nobody has good taste. I can't take Sally Rooney-lovers seriously, or most anybody raving about current day authors. There aren't good books anymore. I say that as I'm reading a book that seems good, and I at least have reason to think it'll remain good.

I didn't game Friday. Failed Saturday. Succeeded today, so far. Doing Sudoku when I felt the urge. The ego-boost from completing 'expert' ones in <15 min. is nice. All it is is finding patterns. The sheer amount of time I've spent on sudoku the past few days—I'll not check. I just need to keep distracting myself from my bad distraction and then I'll be less

disappointed in myself. Constant urge to open up the game and spend. Why? No good could come from it. Yet I still want to open up the app and spend an egregious amount of money on shit I don't want. (and wouldn't want if I were actively playing). I won't. I won't. I won't. Why did I start playing again? I was doing so well. I don't get it. I'm actively making the wrong choices. Falling into a binge/starve cycle. I can't convince myself to chew and spit. I can't stop at just one bite. Nothing even tastes good after that—diminishing returns—yet I eat and go back for seconds. I'll keep restricting until I'm fine and I won't binge again. I can control myself. I'm fine. This is what being fine looks like. This is normal. You don't believe me. I wouldn't either. I'm lying to myself. Aren't I. *silent screaming*

1121

0510. You're wide awake. You don't want to be. Did someone email you, or was that a dream? Inbox is empty. Good. Turn on False Confidence. Do some sudoku. Put the phone down.

0710. Did you fall back asleep, or were you daydreaming? Drink some water. Look up that dance cover of False Confidence. How do they have such fine control over their bodies? Their movements are sharp, precise. They're in unison without looking at each other.

0719. Your siblings have left for school. The youngest is whining; Dad just woke him up. One more video, and you'll get up.

0810. That was not just one more video. Your youngest brother is yelling at your dad. You don't want to do this today. You need to get up. And research magnesium supplements.

0816. The house is quiet. 300mg supplement should be sufficient. You're out of bed.

0844. You've done your yoga. Get dressed. You can still see your hips; you press your fingers against them, feeling the way your bones protrude ever so slightly. It's not enough. Thumb and pinky around each wrist; at least they still comfortably fit. There's flesh that piles up on each knee. You squeeze it. What would happen if you tried to slice it off? Your thighs have so much give to them. It's disgusting. You used to be better than this.

0858. Coffee. Decaf.

0920. Scroll through the internet. None of these books sound interesting. Write up thoughts on Blankets. Try to read The Alice Network. Engage in some fact checking. Give up on the book. Turn on music.

1040. Why does making sausages take so long? At least preheating the pan means it won't take long to make eggs. Life was better with a gas stove.

1109. New Perspective sing-along. You're taking the day off from schoolwork. Recharge.

1210. Parents are back from the grocery store. Got mozzarella balls.

1214. Why do you keep rereading?

1626. Were you crying, or did you fall asleep? Had you been daydreaming? Your sister knocked on your door just before 1400; what had she said that brought you out? Her and your mom watched an episode of New Girl; you listened while browsing your computer. You've been cleaning out your bookmarks. The link directory is coming together.

1643. Invite your brother to play with MagnaTiles. He smiles. You don't remember the last time you played with him.

1703. He's playing on his own. You return to working on your link directory.

1841. Dinner. Leftover pork.

1907. Return of link directory woes.

1943. Basement. Foam roller. Doesn't help with pain; feels nice in the moment. Stretch using yoga ball. Were you irrelevant? Did you mean anything? Why don't people acknowledge your efforts? Why don't they care? Should you be talking to people? Isn't it better for you to keep your mouth shut? You think you have something to say, but your barometer's out of whack. You can't judge the words in your head. You need to shut up; you have nothing to say.

1126

Listening to:

King of a Tragedy - Izak Danielson - lyrics are nothing notable, but he's got a nice voice. Is it Alright For You is lovely & disquieting.
A Season in Hell - October Fall - nothing notable, but the album is growing on me. Parts of it are catchy.
Everything in Transit, The Glass Passenger, People and Things - Jack's Mannequin - no idea why every one of these songs sounds nice. There ain't a skippable one on any of these albums. Turns out Annie Use Your Telescope is more than a font name.

Internet:

evening yoga - Jessica Richburg - first time I've seen one of her videos. Good narration; I didn't have to keep my eyes on the screen to follow along. Not a great routine, though. I didn't feel like I had been stretching for twenty minutes. More like an extended warmup.
antidisciplinarathon - interesting experiment. What happens when people with deep knowledge in vastly different fields work together?
100 Tweets on Better Internet Learning - a list of interesting ideas about how to (better) learn online.
Bicycle ride across america - record of biking across America from someone with fibromyalgia. The site hosting the page is pretty interesting; many pages to take a look at.
??? - I'm not sure what this is. Other than a lot of writing hosted in a subdomain of BU.
small seasons - another way of subdividing the year.
hannibal ladder scene - the shoulder bit at 1:05.
how to play chess properly - "Oh, oh, this is extraordinary. Kasparov is pissing all over the board. But will he have the pressure to (unclear) King away?"

Other:

Cleaned out my bookmarks and started a link directory.
Wrote a fanfic. How I love my drabbles. (Or a double drabble, in this case.)
Started (trying to) knit a beanie. Working with circular needles for the first time has been weird; have a feeling I'll end up restarting this at some point. Learning curve. Casting on ninety-six stitches felt wrong---that's so many stitches! Using this pattern.
Tree is up. Snow season is here. Put up colorful lights in my room to imitate le holiday spirit.
Scheduled learner's permit test! If all goes while, I'll be able to (legally) learn to drive in a month.

1129

I think about talking to people, and then all I can hear is you give back nothing of value & monkeys understand fairness better than you & shut mouth if can't pull together a coherent thought & you don't get it & you're wasting my time & you don't act human & retarded alien &—

—I know it's my fault that I feel hurt. I'm misunderstanding what someone said. They didn't mean to hurt me; that'd've been counterproductive. I can't see past my emotions. It's my fault. Literally—if I knew how to talk to people, figured out how to pick up on what everybody else has figured out already, etc., I wouldn't be writing this. I'm the reason I feel hurt; I'm the reason there's a reason why I feel hurt; I'm the reason I can't get that through my head and just move. on. already.

December

1201 - 1203

1201 - on this journal

I keep thinking about deleting old journal entries. There's no such thing as a blank slate. Deleting them wouldn't undo anything: I'd still have written them; they'd still have been there; you still may have read them. It's bad writing that's not it. Letting go of baggage, maybe, a digital metamorphosis? That isn't the kind of writing I want to be posting online. That isn't the kind of writing I want people to associate with this portrait of me. Vents, baggage—what's gained by posting them? A minor sense of catharsis? C'mon, hon, there are better ways to—process? deal? cope?—than that. Writing them is freeing. Putting them up has become a sort of obligation. Momentum: it's what I've been posting, so it's what I'll keep posting.

Keeping an online journal has helped me build up that habit. The habit itself is good to have: I need a way to keep track of things, work through things, remember what happened, figure out what's next. But do I really want every bit of that personal shit to be online? Do I want that to be a habit?—hell no. I scroll through to see what I wrote in the past and I cringe. That doesn't need to be online. I could (should!) have kept that to myself.

Putting all that shit up creates transparency says this is who I am this is the real me—I don't like that. That's not me. Sure, I present myself as I am—I gain nothing from trickery—but that doesn't mean it needs to all be out there. I don't even want that. Yet holding things back—or deleting them—feels like lying. Why? I don't need to tell you everything. Keeping information to myself doesn't mean I'm lying to you; yeah, it technically means I'm holding information back from you—this is my website; I'll be the judge of what you do and don't need to know. You don't need the entire context. So much of this is me writing about myself, ffs; you don't know me, so you can't expect to have all the context. (Hell, you can know me and still not have all the context).

So much of that writing has been me ineffectually (highlight, bold, underline, font size 96!) stewing in my own problems. Great for short term relief..? Sometimes I do realize something; sometimes it helps me take a step back from my problems and stop beating myself up. It can help with the "woe is me, I hate my life"—95%+ of the time, it's short term relief. At best. So little good comes from stewing in misery. Figuring out where to go from that, I don't know—catch and redirect? Figure out the flow, see where it goes...find balance..?

Heh. Fuck this "should or shouldn't I delete"; I'm taking 2022 down. And bowdlerizing 2023. Good riddance.

1202 - no nano?!

For the first time in six years, I did not write a novel in November. I might have started Nanowrimo with a "fuck it, just braindump" attitude. I forgot about it. Without the hum of a story in the background, there wasn't an internal incentive to write. So: I didn't. Good riddance.

Breaking my pattern feels weird. I completed Nano for five consecutive years. It was a definitive part of my November; something to look forward to: no matter what I had or hadn't done that year, I'd come out of it with at least one rough draft for a novel. (More, when I did Camps). And then I'd proceed to do some revision in January, rework it, etcetera etcetera. Hell, I queried two of them. Even got some explicit rejections, which is always appreciated.

I didn't have a novel in me this year, and I'm a bit disappointed. Part of me says that I should have, since I probably did rack up enough personal events to have something to say about my life (in fiction, of course), but that's not even the kind of novel I tend to write. 2018 was pseudo-communists vs revolutionary group with no discernable political ideology vs the remaining Sumerian deities. 2019 was some guy in the 21st century tries to make sense of some 17th/18th century anarchists. 2020 was “house of leaves meets the tunnel meets the federalist papers.” Not sure what 2021 and 2022 were, other than that they happened, were completed, and were deleted, like so much of my other writing. Guess my Nanos were already going downhill. Maybe I'm out of gov't bullshit to write. The eternal question of how to create a functioning anarchy is still an interesting one. But what's the point? I might as well be exploring nonsense. Even if I found an answer that works for me—I'm relatively sure others have their own answers, I've just not taken the time to look—would that be enough? I'm not convinced that it's worth it.

1203 - week in review.

Internet:

I Spent 18 Months Learning Sashiko Embroidery - this is making me want to start embroidery again. Really cool. (Mostly because I love repetitive patterns.)
intent to write - a nice piece about how we think about writing.

Listening to:

Not a Pretty Girl - Ani DiFranco - mostly Shy.
Reality Tv - mood room - I like the sort-of ethereal sound.
Black Eye - Allie X - initially dismissed this song as a Billie Eilish-sound-a-like, but it's growing on me.

Life:

Nothing notable. Just wrapping up schoolwork and barreling towards finals season.
I got a 95 on a quiz in computing! Turns out character arrays are no problem for me :) think that's the highest grade I've gotten on a quiz there.
Still chipping away at that old web revival essay. Beginning to see that the so-called ‘old web’ never disappeared. It just went underground. Very underground. Neocities really is just the tip of the iceberg.
Only held off on gacha for 4/7 days :( Could be better, could be worse. Very drained by school.
Went to a different church than usual this week. The place was nice; pews were cushioned(!), which my bony ass was thankful for. Their stained glass was so detailed (it ain't at our church), and the lighting was warm. They really built a welcoming atmosphere. The church we've been going to for the last decade still feels cold and unwelcoming. Looks like they use the organ for the 8am? Well, they did today. The main reason we never go to them is because they have a bad habit of doing contemporary (read: sounds like acoustic guitar covers) music. Repeat after me, folks: the appropriate number of guitars in a church is zero.

Gave up on the beanie.
Made some pixel art. Check the misc. section (under others) to see it.
Made an audio thing by recording sounds from an afternoon at school (very shit). Half-inspired by someone at my first college; they were good at composing from found sounds. Maybe I'll play with this more; maybe I won't.

Relocating the Marianas Trench section to here.

Marianas Trench

A band whose music I am distinctly fond of. Some of what I'm saying appeared in previous journal entries; I'm cleaning them up and putting 'em in here. All of their albums (bar the first) have a concept; there's a story that they're telling. The songs segue into each other, and the first/last songs tend to tie the album together.

Fix Me (2006)

A normal, generic album. It isn't one I re-listen to on any basis.

Masterpiece Theatre (2009)

I love how Masterpiece Theatre I/II/III tie the album together. Other than that, it feels like an album of relationship woes.

Masterpiece Theatre I - the intro is fun; creative way to lead up into introducing the actual theme ("when all I want is you" is pretty clear). The first time he says, "I could wreck this if I have to / But I'm a wreck so what would that do," sounds dismissive. He's shrugging off his problems. Yet "This masterpiece is only mine / Entirely guilty by design" acknowledges his role in it.

The buildup across "I just can't let it out" is fun. It works as a transition. Simple instrumentals, the vocals are the first to have harmonies, then there's that nice bit of bass (?) that helps keep the beat alongside clapping.
Cross My Heart - there's an almost vindictive (? not quite right word) (something negative, unhealthy) tone to the lyrics. "Take what you wanna take" and "do what you wanna do" emphasize this. Despite feeling hurt, he says, "I will run to you till I / can't stand on my own anymore." He doesn't feel like he has any other options, ex: "I don't know where to go / I'm coming back to you." Yet "take me with you" implies that this other person is leaving him. Moving on. He's not. Obsessive.
Acadia - nice tonal shift from the rest of the album. It's a call back to simpler times. Being kids. Alas, nobody can return to that time.
Sing Sing - drum beat at the beginning is fun.
Masterpiece Theatre III - the instrumentals at the beginning are lovely. Simple (marimba?), almost haunting, surprisingly catchy. Many of the lyrics appeared in the previous songs. The instrumentals (and other changes in rhythm, etc.) provide a sense of finality to the themes. He sounds resigned to his actions when he says, "I'll wreck this if I have to / Tell me what good would that do / I'll wreck this if I have to."

Ever After (2011)

Something Old / Something New (2015)

An EP.

Pop 101 - one reference after another after another. Listening to it is some sideways nostalgia: I have no memories associated with the song, but nearly every reference is to something I remember hearing when I was younger. Annotations on genius, no explanation needed. Commenters claim that the music video is as much of a mashup of references as the song is.
Primetime
Here's to the Zeros - in the music video, the combination of kid visuals with adult (but not aggressively adult) visuals is an interesting choice.
Sicker Things

Astoria (2015)

Dare I call it their best album? I don't skip any of the songs when I play through it. Starting with the song itself, Astoria:

Astoria! / I'm warning ya / Not ready yet / Not for you / Don't wanna know / My darkest lows

My blackest pitch / murder of crows / feels far from home / close to the veil

Now we're again / a harlequin / Kaleidoscope / in spite of when

Harlequin
Noun
1. A pantomime fool, typically dressed in colorful checkered clothes.
2. A greenish-chartreuse color.
3. (informal) A harlequin duck.
4. (entomology) Any of various riodinid butterflies of the genera Taxila and Praetaxila.
Adjective
1. Brightly colored, especially in a pattern like that of a harlequin clown's clothes.
2. Of a greenish-chartreuse color.
Verb
1. (transitive) To remove or conjure away, as if by a harlequin's trick.
2. (intransitive) To make sport by playing ludicrous tricks.

Don't remind me what the price is / When left to my own devices / 'Cause I'll find out in all due time

I'll say / whatever doesn't make me stronger / kills me / But it's gonna be a long year / Till the hospital can find hope in me

Goodbye, mother's fairytale / Never after will suffice / When star crossed lovers take their life

Do you know everything happens / It happens in threes

A fever blur / through names obscured / and speech is slurred / what's another bridge burned

I'm on my own / you came alone / all dressed up in bad news / I know you've been hurt too

You can lay with me / while you think of him / Drowning sorrows deep in each other's skin

On a good day / I'm the bad news / For the wrong girl / With the right wounds

Hey / Let's all say fuck it

The quid pro quos / that will compose / From esoteric to common prose

This Means War - I can't see the opening of the music video without being reminded of the video for Take On Me.
Shut Up and Kiss Me - This part reminds me of this. Not as strong as a comparison as tying the song to I Want You Back. They may be coincidences, but (with the context of the album) I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Marianas Trench took deliberate inspiration from the Jackson 5. Closing the song with "Don't sound like Mike did / No, but it's all right for a white kid" certainly makes it seem intentional.
Who Do You Love - choral opening starts with one singer (presumably Josh) leading into a full choral part. They've nailed the dramatic feel throughout the song.
End of An Era - I just love the way he says "I'm in over my head." The change in instrumentals. The brief deviation from themes they've been reusing. They never stop revisiting leitmotifs, lyrics, or other references to their former work. I can't quite put my finger on why it works so well for them, but it does. This and this.

"Dearly Departed" has a verse that is a good amalgamation of references to previous albums. It doesn't feel forced either.
(MT: Masterpiece Theatre (2009); EA: Ever After (2011))

> Every masterpiece I'd write again (MT)
> You'll always be my porcelain (Porcelain - EA)
> I crossed my heart (Cross My Heart - MT)
> But I stuttered too (Stutter - EA)
> So truth or dare (Truth or Dare - EA)
> Was I good to you (Good to You - MT)
> Haven't had enough of you all to myself (All to Myself - MT)

> For ever after
> You will be my home
> And there's no place like home

Phantoms (2019)

The album is significantly toned down in comparison to Astoria. Less epic instrumentals, less playing around with sound. Contains some obvious callbacks to the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe ("echoes of you / repeatin' from the beatin' of your telltale heart"); the opening to the documentary cements this.

Eleonora - nice choral opening. The very mild guitar/bass rounds out the sound. Love the line "silence shares my madness."
Only the Lonely Survive - "I'd rather hurt here than be happy somewhere else" - a repeat of the themes we've seen in the previous albums. Some of the instrumentals are reminding me of Who Do You Love; thinking of some of the parts that I want to call timpani but are probably guitar(? too many variations in guitar sounds exist, lol).
Echoes of You - the orchestra parts that show up in the latter half of the song keep building tension. Mixing the repeated "I can't stop myself from falling down / who said you said / don't look down" with this helps emphasize the lyrics.
Don't Miss Me? - there's a certain adorable cheekiness to this song. "I never think of you at all / It's not like I miss your laughter / ... / But I'm wondering, wondering if maybe you / You don't miss me too." I can hear someone being all what, no, i never think about that person i used to know (thinks about that person 24/7). Almost teasing? The music video for it is adorable for different reasons (and I don't like dogs, so that's saying something).
Wish You Were Here - nothing much to note here, except for the clearcut story being built. The complications of the previous albums, the back and forth, have been toned down. Almost sounds optimistic?
The Killing Kind - this is the stand out song of the album. The beginning is quiet. Simple. Building tension. Then the light percussion (glockenspiel), more pizz. strings keep building. The slight vocals at the first "I know my love can be the killing kind" almost resolve tension, but instead it just. keeps. growing. Nice use of brass at 1:46. Two minutes of crescendoing and rising tensions before reaching the fleshed out part. I'd argue the tension finally releases ~2:52. Not as epic as their previous albums, but it's not supposed to be. Love the simple transition into the second part of the song. The lyric repetition works well with these intentional instrumentals. Even when repeating the same thing five times. "Sing it for me baby / Singin' me to sleep / Singing don't love the bottle but the bottle loves me / One for the memory / Two for the pain / Singin' don't love the bottle with a deeper disdain" ugh something about this part just works. The simple piano at "Hey, do you hear me" seems soft, calm, and then you're hit with fleshed out vocals again. Everything is not all right. (This animatic has the right idea). Feels like I don't have much to say beyond oh, umm, tons of tension here.

?